


We All Look How We Feel

by saxophonic



Category: EXO (Band), K-pop
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - College/University, Anal Sex, Binge Drinking, Bottom Yixing, Christmas Caroling, Coffee Shops, Drinking Games, Finger Sucking, Friends With Benefits, Frottage, Gratuitous Smut, Hair-pulling, Hand Jobs, Hickeys, Jongdae and Yixing are Switches, M/M, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Power Bottom Jongdae, References to Drugs, References to Smoking, Rimming, Rough Sex, Sex Under the Influence of Marijuana, Sharing a Bed (kind of), Snow Means Love, Swearing, Underage Drinking, unprotected oral sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-25
Updated: 2015-12-25
Packaged: 2018-05-09 01:28:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 30
Words: 75,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5520329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saxophonic/pseuds/saxophonic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There’s nothing quite as foolish as two boys who won’t admit they’re in love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. August - First Night

**Author's Note:**

> Various side pairings (mainly Baekhyun/Chanyeol).
> 
> Written for [reLAY fest](http://relayficfest.livejournal.com/2188.html).

Moving in the third time around is less tear-evoking than when Jongdae was but a mere freshman, but far more satisfying once the door’s closed and family is back on the road home. He turns to survey his new dorm, complete with his old roommate.  
  
“Well, that ended without any waterworks,” says Baekhyun from where he lounges on his bed. He turns the page in his magazine and blows a puff of air up, disturbing his bangs. He’s got them bleached and streaked with pale pink, like the rest of his head. They flop back down. “Third time’s the charm, I guess.”  
  
“I hardly cried last year,” says Jongdae as he moves to finish unpacking his last suitcase. He opens a drawer and starts shoving jeans into it. Back that first move-in day, he had no idea what to expect from the college experience. When he walked in with a pillow under one arm and a box of school supplies in the other, Baekhyun’s side of the room was an explosion of bedding and books and assorted clothing. Baekhyun had stopped singing to himself while unpacking and immediately charmed Jongdae’s parents with his introduction. Jongdae had been hesitant those first few weeks, of course. Baekhyun talked over Jongdae and sang all the time, which cut into Jongdae’s habits of talking over others and singing all the time.  
  
By the second week, they both decided to join one of the on-campus a cappella groups, and their singing habits turned from contrary to complementary. And Baekhyun kept his mess out of Jongdae’s mess, and Baekhyun never seemed to mind that they talked over each other. After a semester of helping each other home from having too much to drink at on-campus parties, a semester of keeping each other awake during all-nighters, a semester of consoling each other through the occasional patches of homesickness, they knew they lucked out with rooming assignments. They’ve been roommates ever since.  
  
“Yeah, yeah. It was nice to see your parents again. Are they gonna come back around and take us out for dinner?”  
  
Jongdae glances at him before turning his attention to his shirts. He opens another drawer and begins loading. “Us?”  
  
“Come on, your mom loves me.” Baekhyun flips another page.  
  
“I think they’re just going home.”  
  
Baekhyun groans. “Well, what else are we going to do for dinner before Junmyeon’s welcome-back thing tonight?” He flops over on the bed, draping his arm off to one side. “Jongdae, we’re juniors now. I can’t puke in front of Chanyeol tonight. It’s just not cute anymore.”  
  
“Honestly, it was never cute,” Jongdae says. He presses down on the stack of shirts bulging against the top of the drawer, closing it inch by inch. It doesn’t close all the way, but it’s good enough. “You saw him this summer, right?”  
  
“Yeah, he and Yixing came to visit me.” Baekhyun shifts on the bed again. Jongdae can’t see him, busy trying to close the drawer full of jeans. “I thought we sent you pictures. I remember Yixing sending you a bunch of pictures of himself and us from my phone.” Throwing his weight into it, Jongdae grunts as he shoves the drawer shut. “That’s not gonna open again, you know that, right?”  
  
“It’ll be fine.” Jongdae wipes his palms on his thighs. He turns to his suitcase, then back to the dresser, figuring out which drawer is best suited to hold his socks and underwear for the next nine months. “Yeah, I probably saved some of those snapchats.”  
  
“It was so much fun.”  
  
Deciding on the top left drawer, Jongdae grabs an armful of socks. “Couldn’t have been that much fun without me.” Baekhyun snorts. “So is Junmyeon’s free booze or going home with one of his friends the reason we’re going tonight?” He lets loose his bounty, a cascade of matched socks, before turning to his roommate. “What?”  
  
Lying on his back, head and one arm hanging off the side of the bed, Baekhyun’s face is hard to read. He rolls over, righting himself with a grunt. “I don’t think I’m gonna be a serial one-night stand this semester.” He’s serious, which makes Jongdae pause with another grab of socks. “I’m tired of that. I want a change.” Baekhyun tucks his chin against his shoulder. “I want a boyfriend.”  
  
That Baekhyun and Chanyeol have flirted on-again, off-again the past year and a half isn’t a secret to anyone who knows them. “Chanyeol?”  
  
Baekhyun’s head snaps up, indignant. “Did I say him?”  
  
“Your mouth didn’t.” With a grin, Jongdae resumes his unpacking, this time with underwear. “Your face did.”  
  
“Liar.”  
  
“You’re right. You were the one who brought him up first.” Jongdae shoots him a shit-eating grin. Baekhyun ignores it in favor of burying his head behind his magazine, so Jongdae unpacks the last of his underwear. “Did something happen this summer? Like did you wake up and look at Chanyeol and realize you were hot for him?”  
  
“Oh my god.” Baekhyun covers his face with one hand. “I don’t know how it happened, okay? Can we not talk about this anymore? I’m hungry and getting cranky.” He runs his hand through his hair. “Hankry,” he says, running the words together in a clumsy portmanteau.  
  
“Whatever. Anyway, I’m sure there’s something nearby that’s open for dinner.”  
  
With a sigh, Baekhyun tosses his magazine past the foot of his bed. It falls to the floor, missing the desk. Not that it would have much place to land if it had made its mark. Both their desk surfaces boast stacks of cheap, used textbooks, fresh notebooks and folders, and charging laptops, among other useful supplies. “I was banking on a free meal. I don’t think our cards have been credited for the dining halls, yet.”  
  
Shrugging one shoulder, Jongdae uses the last available drawer to store his sweaters, hoodies, and anything else that doesn’t need to be hung in their shared closet. “We could always pick up something from the corner mart. We have a microwave now, and a mini-fridge.”  
  
“True. I still can’t believe we lucked out with these rooms.”  
  
“I know.”  
  
“Gross communal bathrooms are a thing of our past. Chanyeol still has to deal with it, though.” Baekhyun at least has the decency to blush when Jongdae raises his eyebrows at him. “So does Yixing! And Kyungsoo and everyone else, except Junmyeon. You know, one day I’m gonna figure out how he’s managing to afford this apartment.”  
  
The last two drawers slide closed much easier than the first four. “Have you been there already?” Jongdae sits down on his half-made bed, scooting away from Baekhyun until his back hits the wall.  
  
“Yeah, he asked me to help him move in yesterday.” Baekhyun leans forward, gesturing with his hands as he talks. “It’s really nice. Like, we have a good dorm, but the apartment has so much more space.” Someone’s stomach rumbles, loud enough that Jongdae needs half a second to realize it’s Baekhyun. He claps one hand on his belly. “Ugh, can we go eat now?”  
  
\---  
  
Baekhyun puts away their leftovers in the mini-fridge, cackling with delight at the luxury. “Okay, time to get ready. Put on some music while I find my makeup bag.”  
  
“Way ahead of you.” Jongdae slides his phone into the speaker dock sitting on Baekhyun’s dresser. He flips through a few songs while Baekhyun strips off his shirt and rummages in his side of their closet for the pouch in question. Settling on something upbeat, Jongdae looks over to his roommate in time to see him retreat into the bathroom. “Makeup bag? For one of Junmyeon’s parties?”  
  
When Baekhyun answers, his voice echoes slightly off the bathroom tiles. “Yeah.” He hesitates for the briefest moment. “It’s kind of a new thing. I’m not, it isn’t drag.”  
  
“I know that,” Jongdae says, hands on his hips as he listens. He takes one last look around their dorm room, enjoying how new it is, and saving the memory in his mind. It’s likely this is the last time it will look this organized.  
  
“It’s just like, touch-ups. I dunno. I was watching these YouTube videos over the summer and started trying stuff out. Fun stuff, not just the stage makeup for performances.”  
  
Jongdae lets the moment go, instead turning around to stare at his side of the closet and wondering how many of these clothes will end up strewn across their room tonight as they struggle to find the right look. “And you like it.” Dress shirts, polos, slacks. All his, but nothing jumps out at him as first-party-of-the-semester wear.  
  
“Yeah,” Baekhyun says. “I like it. It’s fun.” His voice sounds weird, like he’s stretching his mouth in an unusual way while he’s talking. Jongdae resists the urge to peek into the open bathroom. “It’s like art, except the art is my face, and I look good.”  
  
With a grin, Jongdae grabs a dark polo and one of his snapbacks. “Of course you do. Just don’t ask me to be your test subject for looks.” He pivots to look at himself in the long mirror hung on their closet door, holding the polo in front of him and angling the hat on his head. “Is this a theme party?”  
  
Baekhyun huffs in indignation, loud enough that Jongdae can see him in his mind’s eye, tossing his head. “Why would this be a theme party?  
  
Before he hangs up the polo, Jongdae shrugs. “I dunno.” He walks his fingers across a few more shirts before he strays into Baekhyun’s collection. “It might be.”  
  
“It isn’t.”  
  
“Fine.” Jongdae pauses on a hanger, pulling out a two-toned graphic tee. “Hey, can I borrow one of your shirts?”  
  
“No, use your own.” With a sigh, Jongdae starts to put it back, but stops to re-examine the print. “Hey, change the song, would you?”  
  
He lifts the shirt out in front of him, holding it taut between his hands. “Why? I like this one.” Dropping the bottom hem, he pulls the shirt back in and checks the size.  
  
“Seriously? This one was so overplayed this summer. I’m sick of listening to it now.”  
  
“Wait a minute.” Jongdae’s certain of it now. “This shirt’s mine. I thought I’d lost it when we moved out last spring.”  
  
Baekhyun exits the bathroom, a flesh-toned stick of makeup in one hand. “What?” Jongdae waves the shirt at him. “Oh, right.” He turns, dismissing the issue with a few flaps of his hand before disappearing back into the bathroom. “You can have it back now.”  
  
Rolling his eyes, Jongdae puts it back on his side of their closet. They’re about the same size, with similar tastes in clothes, but this sort of mix-up happens too often for it to be a mistake. Jongdae’s pretty sure Baekhyun picks up whatever clothes he likes, assumes it’s his, and then proceeds to make it so. He bets if he digs a little, he’ll find that pair of dark jeans he lost freshman year sitting under a stack of Baekhyun’s clothes.  
  
“You know, Yixing’s going to show up looking put together in a V-neck and jeans or something. Just wear that muscle tee you cut the huge arm holes into with Minseok last year,” Baekhyun says. “It literally doesn’t matter what you wear. I’m the one who wants a boyfriend, anyway.”  
  
“I would rather not recreate that freshman year college party fiasco.” Jongdae cringes thinking about how overdressed he was, how stiff and awkward. He’s learned a few things since then, like the dress code distinction between a dorm party with friends and going out to a club with friends. The former is far more comfortable. “I’d still like to get laid, though.” He opens one wrong drawer before finding the correct one, then fishes through folded shirts.  
  
From the bathroom, Baekhyun whistles. “On the rebound?”  
  
“Rebound from who? I haven’t dated anyone since that study abroad student last fall.” Jongdae pulls out the shirt Baekhyun mentioned, black with the sleeve holes cut larger and the Rolling Stones logo on the front. “Just trying to get a little action this semester, that’s all the change I need.”  
  
He hears Baekhyun before he sees him. “How do I look? Too much?” Jongdae turns to see Baekhyun trying his best not to fidget. He looks okay as far as Jongdae can tell. He’s concealed and smoothed the skin tone under his eyes, and his features all look a bit more defined, but it’s subtle. He’s lined his eyes, too.  
  
“It’s good.” Jongdae nods, setting the muscle tee down. “Not too much. Nice.”  
  
Baekhyun smiles. “Thanks.” He gestures at Jongdae’s pants, pointing with a flick of his hand. “If you’re gonna wear the loose shirt, put on tighter pants.”  
  
Jongdae strips off his shirt, tossing it at his collapsible laundry hamper. It falls short. “You think? I thought these would be fine.” But Baekhyun wrinkles his nose and shakes his head. “Alright.”  
  
Bending over, Jongdae pulls on the drawer with all his jeans. It doesn’t budge. He yanks, then braces himself differently and tries again.  
  
“I told you that would happen when you overloaded the dresser,” says Baekhyun, smug. Jongdae groans, readjusts, and gives it another shot.  
  
\---  
  
Junmyeon’s party doesn’t really get going until an hour after Baekhyun and Jongdae arrive to help set up. Baekhyun spends most of the time actually helping set up a beer pong table in the living room and sampling a few Jell-O shots along the way.  
  
Jongdae wanders around, one room flowing into another. The spacious living room with its couch and TV is big enough to accommodate a game of 21-cup without feeling crowded. The dining area is smaller, but just as nice, even with a myriad of alcohol and stacks of cups as the kitchen table’s centerpiece. A sliding glass door to one side leads to the small balcony with two plastic chairs and a small metal end table, big enough for two drinks and an ashtray. To the other side is Junmyeon’s kitchen, small and soon to be overcrowded by partygoers.  
  
Circling back out into the living room, Jongdae snoops in a small hallway and discovers the bathroom and a closed door. Though common sense tells him the door is closed for a reason, Jongdae ignores it in favor of peeking at Junmyeon’s single bedroom. A whole bedroom all to himself, in a whole apartment all to himself, and not far from campus, either.  
  
Baekhyun’s right, it is so much nicer than a dorm.  
  
The space fills up as people trickle in, and Jongdae hugs his friends and shakes hands with acquaintances, reunion after reunion. He’s two beers in by the time Yixing shows up, as promised in a simple tee and dark jeans, sliding into place beside Jongdae as he helps himself to another can from the stocked fridge. “Hey, stranger.”  
  
“Hey, yourself,” Jongdae says with a grin. He wraps his arms around Yixing without question, a tight grip that’s returned with a squeeze.  
  
They separate. “We missed you this summer at Baekhyun’s.” Jongdae wordlessly offers Yixing a drink, which Yixing accepts. “Why didn’t you come down?”  
  
Jongdae shrugs. “I was pretty busy this summer. Worked a lot, took an online course. I think it was at the same time as my final.” He cracks open his beer and takes a sip. As usual, it’s cheap stuff, which means it's closer to water than actual beer.  
  
“Oh, nice,” Yixing says. He steps towards Jongdae to let a few people past him into the kitchen. It feels like it’s at max capacity, or almost there. “Where are you guys living this year?” Yixing fingers the edge of the fabric where Jongdae’s sleeves would have been, busying his hands while another group exits the kitchen. He steps back.  
  
“Lucked out. The new dorm near the music department.” Yixing’s eyes go wide and Jongdae grins. He’s been grinning a lot the past few minutes. He’s probably tipsy. Water should be the next thing he puts in his mouth, but there’s a can of beer in his hand, and that’ll have to do. “What about you?”  
  
Leaning forward, Yixing braces one shoulder against the kitchen wall. It brings him closer to Jongdae, but opens up the walkway behind him. He sighs and looks away. “We’re in the Grays? The older building by the business school.” Yixing takes a drink from his beer.  
  
“That’s not too bad,” says Jongdae. “I hear there are less campus police breaking up parties there. And isn’t there a shuttle stop right outside your dorm?”  
  
“Maybe, yeah, but it’s so far from the music department.” Part of Yixing’s scholarship package includes the footnote that he minor in music. He’s probably the best piano player Jongdae’s known personally. Between private lessons, music classes, and his ensemble of choice, the jazz band, he’s a common sight in the music wing. It’s where they met, actually. In the present, Yixing frowns. “And all my classes.”  
  
While pausing to consider this, someone Jongdae doesn’t recognize immediately steps in to pull Yixing into a game on the pong table. “We need your talent,” she says, and Jongdae laughs.  
  
“His aim is terrible! Are you kidding? Balls all over the place.”  
  
Yixing lets her tug him along, though they don’t make much progress in the large group. “Hey, I’m not that bad.”  
  
“You want me to hold that for you?” Jongdae reaches for the beer, but Yixing curls his wrist in, tucking the can against his shirt. Condensation leaves a wet mark on his chest.  
  
“Don’t steal my side beer,” Yixing says with a grin, which makes Jongdae and the girl laugh. She says something about not letting it interfere with his aim, but then they’re swallowed by the rest of the party and Jongdae’s left a lonely wallflower holding a half-full can of beer.  
  
Later, when his head swims with alcohol and noise, he stops mid-conversation with Junmyeon, Sehun, and Jongin. He can only laugh and point across the party where Chanyeol and Baekhyun have tucked themselves near the front door, lip-locked. By the careful way the people around them have angled their backs, they’ve been that way for a while.  
  
“Looks like you’re not sleeping in your room tonight,” Sehun says, raising his eyebrows and giggling into his mixed drink. Jongin’s completely lost it, face scrunched up laughing.  
  
“I mean, they might be going back to Chanyeol’s, right?” Jongdae knows he’s not convincing anyone, least of all himself. “I should probably warn Yixing, unless he’s left already.”  
  
Patting Jongdae’s shoulder, Junmyeon leans in. “If you need to crash here, the couch pulls out.”  
  
“And so does Junmyeon, if you ask nicely,” says Sehun. Jongin doubles over, tears streaming from his eyes.  
  
One look at Junmyeon’s bright red face tells Jongdae everything he needs to know. “Thanks but, no thanks.” He shakes his head once. Junmyeon’s flush starts to fade or maybe Jongdae’s imagining things. “I don’t think they’re going home together. Baekhyun told me he wants to be boyfriend material.”  
  
Sehun looks at him, skeptical. Even Jongin seems to get himself back under control. “Really? What changed?”  
  
Across the party, Baekhyun and Chanyeol have broken apart. Chanyeol runs his fingers along Baekhyun’s jaw, tracing from ear to chin. Baekhyun’s grinning like a giddy buffoon. It suits him. They lean in again, this time to talk instead of suck face.  
  
“I think Baekhyun has,” Jongdae says as he realizes it. The longer he stares, the more certain he is that they’ll be leaving together. He sort of wants to stay and watch it, this first time. Instead, his sense of obligation cuts through the alcohol-induced haze and he knows he has to warn Chanyeol’s roommate.  
  
Jongdae finds Yixing sitting in the darkness of the balcony, backlit by the party and facing the cars on the street below. He’s switched over to water at some point, though he has a Jell-O shot in one hand, holding it in such a way it seems he’s seriously considering tonguing it free of its paper shooter cup. The girl from earlier isn’t with him, and that feels important, but Jongdae isn’t sure why. He steps out before he slides the door shut, muting the noise of a party to an indistinct cacophony.  
  
“Hey.”  
  
Yixing looks up from the shot. “Hey.”  
  
“I’ve got something to tell you.” Jongdae sits down in the empty chair, and Yixing’s eyes stay on him.  
  
“What is it?” The moment goes still, even when Yixing cocks his head when Jongdae doesn’t answer.  
  
Thinking is difficult. Remembering is difficult. “It’s about Chanyeol.” Jongdae knows what he needs to say, but the words won’t come. He exhales, buzzing his lips, and tries to focus.  
  
“Is he okay?”  
  
“Yeah, yeah, he’s fine,” says Jongdae. “Is that…can I?” Yixing hands over his water and Jongdae starts drinking. “Thanks.”  
  
One of Yixing’s shoulders moves up and down in a half shrug. “No problem.”  
  
The water helps, or Jongdae tricks himself into thinking it does. He isn’t driving, so it doesn’t really matter. “It’s nice out here.” He finishes the cup. “Okay, right. Chanyeol.” Jongdae pauses again to watch Yixing suck Jell-O from a paper cup, noisy and uncoordinated and unselfconscious, then crumple the trash in his fist. “Chanyeol.”  
  
Leaning over, Yixing drops the used paper shooter into the empty plastic cup. “He’s kicking me out of my room tonight, isn’t he.”  
  
Jongdae looks back into the party, but he can’t see the front door from this angle. “Maybe. I’m not sure yet.” His gaze settles back on Yixing. “I could be the one kicked out.”  
  
It takes a moment before understanding flashes on Yixing’s face. “Oh” is all he says. He looks out to the buildings across the street. Then, slower, “Finally.” The way he says it makes Jongdae smile. Maybe the alcohol wants him to smile, and Yixing’s drawn-out vowels are the catalyst.  
  
“Maybe, though. Baekhyun wants the boyfriend thing. I don’t know what Chanyeol wants.”  
  
Yixing’s gaze returns to Jongdae. “You’re worried.”  
  
“I’m worried.”  
  
“Don’t be.”  
  
From his pocket, Jongdae’s phone beeps with a new text message. It’s from Baekhyun, and Jongdae announces this before opening the text.  
  
baekhyun [01:12AM]:  
Sorry to do this 1st night back but I need the room (;  
  
“Well, looks like I need a place to sleep, and you’re fresh out of a roommate,” Jongdae says after texting Baekhyun back.  
  
Yixing grins. “Yeah, yeah, you can stay over.” Jongdae pockets his phone. “See? I told you not to worry.”  
  
“Yeah, I guess you’re right. I guess we’ll all see how that plays out.” His head feels heavy. He slides down in his seat and lets his head fall against the chair’s backrest.  
  
“So ‘boyfriend’ is what Baekhyun wants,” Yixing says thoughtfully. “New semester, new man.” He exhales noisily, kicking his foot out at nothing and scuffing it along the concrete of the balcony. “What do you want?”  
  
Jongdae lifts his head. “Me?” Yixing nods. “I want to pass all my classes and get laid. A lot.” This makes Yixing laugh, high and merry like ringing bells. Jongdae grins. “Well, one of those things is gonna happen, at least. What about you?”  
  
“I’ve been thinking about graduating early. This December instead of in May.”  
  
“What?” Jongdae sits up straight, eyes focusing on Yixing. “You’ve got the hours for it?”  
  
Yixing shrugs. “I have one class left I need to take. If I add it to my schedule this semester, I’ll be done.”  
  
Frowning, Jongdae shifts in his seat. He doesn’t like the idea of Yixing leaving him any sooner than necessary. “No.”  
  
“No?”  
  
“You should stay.” He looks across the little table, up Yixing’s tee, coming to focus on his face. “Enjoy your last semester. Graduate in the spring, like Minseok did last year.”  
  
It’s hard to read Yixing’s face when half of it is cast in shadow and Jongdae’s still not sober. “You kinda sound like my academic advisor.”  
  
Jongdae snorts. “Boring?”  
  
Yixing shakes his head, smiling but staying quiet. It feels like a compliment, that same warm feeling of a soft blanket draped around Jongdae.  
  
In the distance, someone’s car alarm goes off. “We should go soon before Junmyeon makes us sleep at the foot of his bed or something equally ridiculous.” Jongdae stands, reaching out for the balcony railing to steady himself. He turns and offers Yixing his hand to pull him out of his chair. Yixing takes it.


	2. September - Lucky

Being early means you can take your time. Jongdae steps into the lecture hall, surveying the layout of the seats, the big projector screens on either side of the podium, the way other students distribute themselves. He picks out a seat in the middle third of rows, closer to the exit than the far wall. It’s the second week of classes, and this is his first time attending the section, so he knows he’s probably going to take someone’s spot on accident. It can’t be helped. The 8AM lecture he originally signed up for, well, he slept through the first two sessions and decided to switch sections instead of dropping the course entirely. He hopes whoever had been sitting here can forgive him.  
  
Settling his backpack between his feet, he pulls out a notebook and pen before folding out the arm desk. He prints the date in the corner and ignores the itch to pull out his phone. It’s tempting to bring his laptop with him to class, or to stay on his phone the whole time, especially these first few weeks where classes go slow. Remembering the unfortunate dip in his grades that first semester in college helps stay his hand.  
  
The other students trickle in, some in groups and some alone. Jongdae bounces his leg, hoping nobody challenges his seat dominance but ready to be a dick as needed.  
  
“I didn’t realize you were in this class, Jongdae.”  
  
He looks up, surprised to see Yixing standing there. Jongdae grins as Yixing settles into the seat beside him. “Yeah, I switched into this section at the end of last week.”  
  
“Lucky for me!” He flips open his notebook, revealing a mess of notes he shows to Jongdae. “The professor talks pretty fast and the TA is so quiet. You’ll see. I have a hard time understanding them.”  
  
Jongdae leans over, skimming over what he missed. It’s a low-level geology course, something he’d learned in high school, so he’s familiar with most of what’s already in Yixing’s notes. “Do you have a copy of the syllabus?”  
  
“Yeah, let me find it.” He’s back in his bag, pulling out a folder, flipping through looseleaf for the packet. “It should be in the online course too, once that’s been added to your account.”  
  
“That’s true.”  
  
When Yixing resurfaces, he has the syllabus. “Here you go.” Jongdae accepts it, flipping through course conduct to the main points: the grading scale. “I hope Baekhyun and Chanyeol haven’t been giving you much trouble.”  
  
“No.” Jongdae chuckles. “No, they’re pretty considerate. I think they’ve slowed down.”  
  
“Since that first night.”  
  
“Yeah,” Jongdae says. The grading scale gives equal weight to the midterm and the final, with labs coming in at 20% the final grade. It’s do-able. “Thanks.” He passes Yixing back the syllabus. “Baekhyun’s happy about it. It’s kind of nice, you know? Having your roommate in a permanent good mood.”  
  
“Absolutely.” The noise level of the hall swells with chatter. It’s almost full, but nobody’s shown up to teach yet. “We should make them give us a schedule of when they’re gonna need our rooms.”  
  
“What, like visitation rights?”  
  
Yixing nods. “Yeah, a visitation schedule. So I know when to crash somewhere else.”  
  
“You mean, when to crash in my room.” Jongdae pats his chest. “If they’re desecrating your room, you know mine’s free.”  
  
Leaning forward on his desk, Yixing props his head up with his hand. He’s amused, grinning like he knows something Jongdae doesn’t, but it’s much softer than that. “You think Baekhyun is going to haul ass all the way out to our dorm?”  
  
Jongdae blinks fast and scrambles for words, briefly wondering why something so innocuous caught him off-guard. “Well, I mean, when you put it that way….”  
  
The professor sweeps into the room in a bustle, the TA following in their wake. Conversations die away and the class quiets down to the rustle of paper, the creaking of seats. Yixing straightens in his seat, picking up his pen and attention focused on the two figures at the front of the large lecture hall. Jongdae lets his eyes linger on Yixing’s profile—the wrist poised to write, the gentle flex of muscle as he resettles his shoulders, the slight lean forward over his notebook—and turns his gaze front, where it belongs.  
  
\---  
  
Between people warming up and catching up from last week, Junmyeon has trouble getting a cappella rehearsal started on time. The atmosphere is unsettling, fraught with some nervous energy that gets under everyone’s skin. It doesn’t help when Junmyeon stops rehearsal to coach the basses through a staggered entry, and Kyungsoo turns to him, staring him down with his big lamp-like eyes.  
  
“What?” Jongdae asks. Kyungsoo says nothing at first, tilting his chin down in silence. “What’s that look for?”  
  
Kyungsoo grins as he murmurs. “Yixing mentioned you again in sociology today.”  
  
“Again?”  
  
“It’s interesting. The things he says.” Jongdae refuses to take the bait, instead letting them stand in silence while the other members of their section text on their phone. He can see Baekhyun’s screen as he scrolls through Instagram, double tapping on a picture of a Corgi’s butt. Junmyeon stops the basses mid-phrase and goes down the line to test pitch. “The things he’s been saying.”  
  
“If it's annoying you so much, just ask him to stop. You know he will. He’s good like that.”  
  
Kyungsoo shakes his head, slow and pitying. “You don’t get it,” he says, and leaves it at that.  
  
Jongdae feigns indifference, but as he changes his mind, Junmyeon draws the whole group back to work. It gnaws at him the rest of rehearsal. After their hour and a half is up, the group puts the classroom back together and splits. Jongdae grabs Junmyeon for a quick dinner before Junmyeon heads back to his apartment. Before he leaves, he invites Jongdae and Baekhyun to his place on Saturday for a party. “It’s kind of why I signed the lease,” he says with a grin when Jongdae accepts. “No campus police to raid my fridge for my legal alcohol.”  
  
Finding himself alone, Jongdae decides to visit the coffee bar in the library, planning to get a head start on his research paper for his last writing-in-the-discipline course of his undergraduate career. His phone beeps as he becomes the back of the line. It’s Yixing, and seeing his name on Jongdae’s screen is enough to make him smile.  
  
yixing [07:58PM]:  
Hey are you going to Junmyeon’s on Saturday  
  
jongdae [07:59PM]:  
Yeah just heard about it lol but Baekhyun and Chanyeol are going ~~~out that night tho  
  
yixing [07:59PM]:  
I heard…we’re all in your room studying but I think I’m gonna leave soon bc they’re, well, not really studying anymore  
  
jongdae [08:00PM]:  
LOL GET OUTTA THERE FAST!!  
  
jongdae [08:00PM]:  
Unless you’re into that kind of thing… ;3  
  
yixing [08:01PM]:  
I mean, if the scenario presented itself, I might not say no  
  
jongdae [08:01PM]:  
Omg  
  
yixing [08:01PM]:  
Could be fun  
  
jongdae [08:01PM]:  
WE ARE NOT HAVING THIS CONVO RN LMAO  
  
jongdae [08:02PM]:  
Anyway if you want I’m gonna be studying in the library. Feel free to stop by…after…  
  
yixing [08:02PM]:  
Omg please lol I’ll head over now. Text you when I get there  
  
When Jongdae gets to the cashier, he orders two drinks, one to keep him up and then one he thinks is Yixing’s favorite, and asks for a to-go carry case. He doesn’t think much of it as he taps through the library turnstiles with his student ID, or when he finds a rare nook in the stacks with unused outlets and drops his things down to get started. Yixing texts him about fifteen minutes later, and from the comfort of the secluded armchairs, Jongdae directs him to his spot on the fifth floor.  
  
“Hey,” Yixing says when he arrives.  
  
Jongdae looks up from the notebook in his lap with a grin. “Hey, you made it.” He points with his pen to the untouched coffee. “That one’s yours. It might be a bit cold by now, but still caffeinated.”  
  
Yixing blinks, forehead wrinkling as he unloads his backpack from his shoulders. He settles it on the ground in front of the unoccupied chair. “You got me coffee?”  
  
With a modest shrug, Jongdae looks back down to his notes. “Yeah, I was in line when you texted me.” He can’t help but watch out of the corner of his eye while Yixing checks under the lid before taking a drink. “I hope I remembered your usual.” Yixing’s eyes go wide with pleasant surprise. He licks a smear of cream from the corner of his lips, and Jongdae knows he did well.  
  
“Yeah, this is good.” Yixing sits, careful not to spill. “Thank you. You didn’t have to do that.”  
  
He turns his full attention to his notes, though it’s difficult to stay focused now that Yixing’s beside him. “I know,” he says, doodling lines across the page. “I wanted to, though.” He kicks off his shoes, tucking his knees up and increasing the angle of his notebook. “Thanks for coming. I was getting lonely.”  
  
Yixing unpacks and gets himself settled on the other chair. “If I had stayed any longer, I would have been a different kind of third wheel.”  
  
Shaking his head, Jongdae chortles. “So much for taking it slow, I guess.” With one hand, he scrolls on his laptop, set up precariously on the wide chair arm, skimming until he catches another keyword. The quiet rhythm of studying overtakes them. Jongdae finds that the urge to shift in his seat, to look at Yixing and have Yixing’s eyes on him, fades into background noise like the soft whoosh of cool air coming through the vents and blanketing the area.  
  
It isn’t until Yixing leaves for the night, after a few hours of quiet of studying interspersed with easy conversation, that Jongdae realizes he forgot to ask Yixing about what he said to Kyungsoo.


	3. September - Postgame

Technically, it’s a postgame party, but Jongdae’s willing to bet no one in attendance went to the football game. Junmyeon’s place is packed with old friends and new acquaintances, music playing beneath all the chatter. He’s on his third beer pong game in a row, though it’s likely to be his last for a while. He makes his toss, bouncing off the rim of a cup and sending Jongin searching for the pong ball.  
  
“Come on, Jongdae,” says Sunyoung from beside him before she sinks another cup. On the other side of the table, Soojung grimaces as she reaches for it, fishing out the ball before downing the beer inside. “I’m carrying this team right now! Get it together.”  
  
“Amber, switch places with me.” Jongdae motions her over. She shakes her head but acquiesces him anyway, the two of them passing each other behind Sunyoung. “Thanks.”  
  
Jongin’s back at the table, dunking the ball in the water cup and waiting for his teammate Seulgi to shoot for one of the few remaining cups. She misses. “Just make a cup this round,” says Amber, catching the bounce off the table in midair. Jongin steps up to follow through. He purposefully aims for the table, one quick bounce landing the ball in a cup. Jongdae snatches the cup off the table before Soojung has a chance to shoot, leaving the other team with one left.  
  
“I’m trying,” he says. He grabs the ball out of the beer before drinking. Sunyoung centers the remaining cup on the back edge of the table as a nicety to the other team. Amber sinks another shot, but they still have three cups left after Seulgi takes that one away.  
  
Soojung takes aim, testing the toss three times with her wrist, before letting fly the prettiest arc of the whole game. It lands with a satisfying plunk in the cup. Jongdae groans while the other team celebrates, Seulgi punching a fist in the air and Jongin giving Soojung a high-five.  
  
“Good game, good game!” Sunyoung congratulates the other team before the three of them move away from the table. The next team takes their place to challenge the last round’s winners.  
  
“Jongdae, you should probably drink some water,” Amber tells him with a pat on the back.  
  
Sunyoung nods. “We all should.”  
  
“I’m fine,” Jongdae says, shrugging, but then the world sort of spins, and maybe water is a good idea after all.  
  
Ailee steps forward from where they had been watching, long hair a mess from running their hands through it one too many times. Amber lifts one arm around their shoulders, pulling them in. Just then, the song switches and Sunyoung stays to sing along with the two of them, but Jongdae excuses himself to the kitchen.  
  
In the kitchen, he finds Yixing and Sehun huddled conspiratorially around something on the counter. The place is so loud with music and people; they don’t notice him filling a cup with water. They don’t notice him at all until he stands on tiptoe to drape himself over them. “What’s going on here?” he asks, tucking his chin over Yixing’s shoulder. Touching feels good, and Jongdae stops himself from rubbing Yixing’s arm through his blue shirt. Amber and Sunyoung were right about him needing water.  
  
Sehun shows him a freshly unwrapped deck of cards. “We’re thinking of getting a game of king’s cup going. You in?”  
  
“Can I play with water?” Jongdae asks. He doesn’t mean to whine, but it comes out that way anyway.  
  
Turning his head, Yixing tries to get a better look at him, and Jongdae’s suddenly face-to-face with Yixing. He has a soft-looking mouth, Jongdae decides, which is followed by the realization that the assessment is a dangerous one. Accurate, but dangerous, so Jongdae turns his head to look at Sehun instead. He can still feel Yixing’s breath against his head when he speaks, “If he gets the fourth king, I’ll chug the drink for him.”  
  
“He’s that drunk already?” Sehun laughs. “Yikes.”  
  
“I drink my own drinks,” Jongdae says, peeling himself off them. “But water before then. Who else is playing?”  
  
They manage to convince a few other people to join them, setting up the game on the dining room table. Sehun spreads the deck facedown in a circle around an empty glass. Jongdae finds himself between Kyungsoo and Amber’s friend, Juhyun. Yixing, sitting across the circle, pulls the first card. “Ace,” he says, leaving the card face-up in front of him. “Waterfall.” All at once, the players start to drink, and in a ripple slow around the circle after Yixing, they stop. This card is a godsend for Jongdae, who manages to drink most of his water this turn.  
  
Drinking water over the course of the game allows him to sober up at roughly the same rate everyone else doesn’t. This reverse trajectory gives him the advantage during certain cards, like “Draw a Nine, Say a Rhyme.” The dark-haired boy sitting on the other side of Kyungsoo flubs it, and Kyungsoo laughs at him when he drinks.  
  
This also means he’s acutely aware of the looks Yixing sneaks his way when he thinks nobody’s paying attention. Jongdae likes it. A lot.  
  
Too much, maybe. Jongdae needs more water.  
  
From the ring of cards around the now semi-full cup, Yixing draws an eight card. His eyes consider each player before he picks Jongdae to drink with him. They both end up draining their cups and Jongdae leans across the circle to pluck Yixing’s out of his hand. “I’ll refill,” he says by way of explanation before disappearing into the kitchen. He pours water for both of them. Slipping the cup back into Yixing’s hand to a murmured ‘thank you,’ Jongdae makes a space for himself beside Yixing.  
  
It’s Juhyun’s turn, drawing a seven. Hands shoot up around the table, pointing to the sky. Yixing’s the last to react, and so Jongdae drinks with him. The turn passes to Kyungsoo.  
  
“This is water,” Yixing says to Jongdae, leaning in so no one else can hear.  
  
Jongdae nods, putting one hand on Yixing’s shoulder. “You needed it.” He pulls back, and Yixing nods.  
  
“Thanks.”  
  
Kyungsoo draws a two and points to Yixing. “You,” he says, though his eyes are on Jongdae, and both Yixing and Jongdae drink.  
  
The game ends a few draws later, when Sehun pulls the fourth king with a groan. He pours some of his pink lemonade and vodka concoction into the glass in the center, which is already a delightful shade of brown from someone’s rum-and-cola. Jongdae can’t remember exactly what else is in there, but whatever it is can’t taste good. Sehun’s face screws up as he downs the glass, gagging on the back end. “That was fucking disgusting.” He sets the empty cup back down in its place. “Which one of you is drinking straight up Everclear?” he asks, and the table laughs.  
  
After that, Jongdae drifts through the party before finding himself back in the front room, watching Soojung, Seulgi, and Jongin win another match of beer pong. He set his cup down somewhere along the way, but he’s in no hurry to get a refill of anything. Yixing sidles up behind him, draping one arm casually around his shoulders and hand dangling down Jongdae’s chest. They watch as Junmyeon, Sehun, and Seohyun challenge the reigning champions. After the first few exchanges, it’s clear to Jongdae that Team Soojung won’t be staying to play another round.  
  
“Since when are underclassmen so good at this game?” Jongdae asks. Yixing moves, pulling his arm away. Jongdae grabs his wrist and settles it back into place before he realizes what he’s doing. He goes still, but Yixing doesn’t seem to mind.  
  
“Maybe they practiced this summer,” says Yixing. The crowd around the table grows, and other people edge in around them. They shift, Yixing stepping behind Jongdae. He rearranges his arms until they’re encircling Jongdae’s shoulders.  
  
Jongdae shakes his head. “Seulgi’s a first-year.”  
  
“Really?” Yixing takes a step back, pulling Jongdae with him. Someone else takes his spot, a better access point to watch Sehun aim and throw. He doesn’t mind, not when he’s pressed against Yixing like this. They’re shifting their weight from foot to foot in time with the music. It isn’t really dancing. If they were dancing, Yixing would grind his hips against Jongdae’s ass and oh, that is _definitely_ a dangerous thought.  
  
Pulling Jongdae back into the conversation, Yixing says, “I thought she was a sophomore like Soojung.” Jongdae shakes his head again and feels Yixing shrug. “Oh.”  
  
“Yeah. I think they knew each other from before, though.”  
  
“I see.” They keep swaying together until Yixing stills and clears his throat. “So, have you heard from Baekhyun tonight?”  
  
Jongdae turns his head away from the game, craning to look at Yixing. “What?” They’re close, like in the kitchen, except this time Sehun isn’t watching. No one is.  
  
“My last text from Chanyeol was a few hours ago.” When Jongdae furrows his eyebrows in confusion, Yixing elaborates. “I don’t know where they’re going to end up. I might stay over here tonight if it gets too late.”  
  
“Maybe.” He wishes he could stay here longer, tucked under Yixing’s arm and talking about anything just to hear Yixing’s voice. All the drinks from earlier have finally caught up with him. He finds Yixing’s hand and squeezes it in silent apology, for something he’s not sure he can put into words. Disturbing their peace, maybe. He lets the thought go when he releases Yixing’s hand. “`Scuse me,” he says. Yixing pulls his arm back, his fingers trail against Jongdae’s chest. Jongdae pivots and walks past him. “Bathroom.”  
  
It’s a short line and a quick trip. Jongdae checks his reflection in the mirror once he’s finished washing his hands. He doesn’t look drunk, maybe a bit more flushed than usual, but otherwise okay. He feels fine. Maybe it’s time for another mixed drink.  
  
When he opens the door, he’s met with the sight of Yixing sitting on the edge of Junmyeon’s bed, the door open, the lights on. Alone. Jongdae takes a step into the hallway, the in-between space, and hesitates. “Tired?” he asks, meeting Yixing’s eyes.  
  
Yixing turns his head from side to slide, slowly, not breaking their gaze. A few feet away, the crowd around the pong table cheers and groans as someone makes a critical shot. Or misses it. Jongdae doesn’t care. He steps into Junmyeon’s room and closes the door. “Now you’re getting it,” Yixing says with a grin. Leaning back, he plants his hands behind him on the bed to support his weight.  
  
Jongdae puts his hands in his pockets, grinning back. “What, exactly, am I getting?”  
  
Easing some weight off his hands, Yixing manages a small shrug and flashes a raise of his eyebrows.  
  
Jongdae laughs, looking away to Junmyeon’s _Pirates of the Caribbean_ poster stuck to the far wall. He pulls his hands out of his pockets in favor of crossing his arms and leaning against the door. “Correct me if I’m wrong.” Eyes forward, he faces Yixing. “Whatever we’re talking about, I don’t want a committed relationship.”  
  
“That’s fine.” Yixing tilts his head to one side. “I’m not asking for one.”  
  
“Good.” They watch each other. The noise from the pong game swells, then fades, but the muted bass thumping from the stereo persists. Jongdae’s head spins around one question: _Is this really happening?_ He pushes his luck. “No strings. No feelings. That’s what I want.”  
  
Another shrug. “I can do that. Can you?”  
  
“I’m asking for it, aren’t I?” Jongdae says, trying not to grin. Yixing breaks eye contact this time, looking at the floor and chuckling to himself, and Jongdae gives up the serious act. “Oh, my god.” They laugh together, the quiet and nervous laughter of two people eager to get started, but neither one willing to push the moment forward.  
  
That is, until Yixing says, voice low, “Lock the door.”  
  
“What?” Jongdae looks up, amused, but there’s an intensity on Yixing’s face that makes Jongdae’s breath hitch in his throat. “Here?”  
  
“Why not?”  
  
Jongdae considers the options, one hand absentmindedly playing with his bottom lip. He could say no, thank you, he’s not interested. Yixing wouldn’t push him into anything they both don’t want. But, God, it’s been forever, and he really, _really_ fucking wants to do this. To touch and be touched. Kissing. Hooking up. Well, Jongdae reasons, maybe not all the way. Yet. Things could be weird.  
  
Plus, Jongdae doesn’t want to fuck Yixing in Junmyeon’s bed. Junmyeon’s a neat guy, but no.  
  
Yixing’s waiting for an answer, quiet and patient, staring at the books stacked on Junmyeon’s desk. “A test run,” Jongdae says, and Yixing’s attention comes back to him. “We’ll just hook up a bit. See how it goes.”  
  
“Okay.” Nodding, Yixing sits forward, taking the weight off his hands. “What ‘bit’ did you have in mind?”  
  
Jongdae stops playing with his own mouth, lifting his head. “Close your eyes.”  
  
To his pleasure, Yixing does exactly that. Jongdae locks the door. “Can I peek?” asks Yixing.  
  
“Not yet.” Jongdae stamps his foot in mock irritation. “What kind of question is that?” But Yixing just laughs.  
  
One foot in front of the other, Jongdae approaches the bed. Yixing’s eyes remain closed, even once Jongdae touches him. He puts one hand on Yixing’s shoulder, reconsiders, then moves it to cradle his jaw. Jongdae considers his face, the shifting of eyes under their lash-fringed lids, the peculiar slope of his nose, and the dark pink swell of his lips. “You’ll be happy to know I won’t ask you to put a bag on your head.”  
  
Yixing’s lips spread into a grin, the dimple in Yixing’s cheek appearing beneath the pad of Jongdae’s thumb. “Much obliged.”  
  
Jongdae lets out a breathy chuckle, and Yixing tilts his head up toward the sound. He knows he’s delaying the inevitable. His gaze falls upon Yixing’s mouth, parted just so in anticipation, ready and waiting for Jongdae to make up his mind. To act.  
  
He leans in, inch by careful inch, taking in one last breath and holding it. Angling his head, Jongdae drops one, slow kiss on Yixing’s cheek. Followed by another, closer to his mouth. And another, paving a trail of soft kisses from high on Yixing’s cheek down to the corner of his lips. Here, again, he hesitates to breathe, to watch Yixing swallow, hard.  
  
Eyes falling closed, Jongdae kisses Yixing tenderly on the mouth. He feels like he could burst when he feels Yixing smile against him. Yixing’s mouth is as soft as it looks. One kiss melts into more, dry lips sticking together and seeking out a rhythm. The fullness of his lower lip gives way to Jongdae’s firm mouth, then seeks him out, again and again. Jongdae crushes closer, and Yixing’s hand reaches for Jongdae, resting on the collar of his shirt.  
  
Jongdae shifts his palm from Yixing’s cheek to his shoulder, pushing him down against the bed. He follows, straddling Yixing’s lap and chasing that sweet mouth with his own. He fists both hands in the front of Yixing’s shirt. Yixing’s fingers race along Jongdae’s sides, up from his waist to his back, digging into Jongdae’s shoulders. Jongdae sighs at the touch, the careful way Yixing holds him close. He lets his tongue trail over Yixing’s bottom lip before they kiss again, this time hot and wet. Yixing still tastes like the sticky cloy of pink lemonade and vodka from Sehun’s concoction earlier, like the sugar buried its sweetness inside his mouth.  
  
Their tongues move, hesitant and awkward as they learn how to kiss each other. The bumping of noses, the clack of teeth, they pass over these moments with giggles. Each second, no matter how awkward, feeds into the excitement building in Jongdae’s veins.  
  
One of Yixing’s hands slowly winds into Jongdae’s hair. He draws Jongdae’s tongue into his mouth, sucking on it, while the other hand drags down Jongdae’s back. Jongdae grinds his hips against Yixing, both of them growing hard in their pants, and they break their kiss to pant, to groan.  
  
Jongdae capitalizes on this moment. He crawls down Yixing’s body, with a lick and a bite for the corner of his jaw, sucking on the base of Yixing’s neck, a peck of a kiss for the nipple poking up against the fabric of Yixing’s shirt. Sliding off Yixing, Jongdae settles between his legs, pushing up the hem of his shirt. He unzips Yixing’s jeans, tugging them down his thighs.  
  
Hooking two fingers from each hand over the waistband of Yixing’s underwear, he pauses. They could stop now if they wanted, and Jongdae’s certain nothing much would change between them. Instead, he says, “I’m gonna suck you off.”  
  
“Shit,” says Yixing, voice hoarse. One hand flies up to cover his eyes. “Yeah.” He shifts his weight to the balls of his feet, lifting his hips from the bed. Jongdae pulls off his underwear, and it’s done.  
  
Face-to-face with Yixing’s penis is not somewhere he thought he’d be tonight, but for the record, he isn’t complaining. Jongdae wraps one hand around him, half-hard and warm in Jongdae’s palm. He squeezes the base tight before sliding his hand up the shaft in one slow pull. Reaching just below the ridge of Yixing’s dick, Jongdae ducks his head to dig the tip of his tongue against the slit.  
  
With a gasp, Yixing’s back curves off the bed. Jongdae watches Yixing grasp at the sheets as he curls his tongue in lazy circles around the dark, flushed tip. Yixing strains when Jongdae takes him into his mouth, swallowing the shaft down far as he can go. He’s out of practice with the physical motion, but makes up for it with his hand and calm attention to what Yixing likes. And Yixing likes Jongdae’s wet tongue wherever he can reach it, rubbing along the underside of his shaft as he sucks, curling around it spring-like as he bobs his head, wiping flat circles around the head.  
  
Jongdae alternates his speed, working Yixing up to a frenzy before tapering off to something slow. He likes playing around, and Yixing stays hot and hard through it. On a slower round, he drags his tongue up the side of Yixing’s shaft. “Are your eyes still closed?” he asks. Yixing’s cock is shiny from Jongdae’s mouth. It’s a good look, Jongdae decides.  
  
“No,” says Yixing. Then, haltingly, “Can I watch you?”  
  
Taking the head of Yixing’s cock into his mouth, Jongdae hums low around it. Yixing groans, loud enough to make Jongdae wonder if anyone has heard them for the past few minutes. He pulls his mouth off Yixing’s dick long enough to say, “Yes.” Then Jongdae’s back down, sucking his cock like it’s the most natural thing in the world.  
  
Yixing shifts on the bed, craning his head to look at Jongdae. Jongdae meets his eyes as he sinks his mouth down Yixing’s cock, enjoying the way Yixing’s jaw drops open in pleasure. He’s hard in his pants, and at the back of his mind, wonders if Yixing would let Jongdae fuck his mouth someday. Probably.  
  
He speeds up his pace, content to bring Yixing to climax now that he knows he wants more. Yixing chokes out a warning. “Jongdae, can I come in your mouth?”  
  
Jongdae flutters his tongue against the slit. “Yes.” He closes his lips around the head again, sucking on it while his hand pumps Yixing’s shaft. Yixing pants, vocalizing the beginning of each heavy breath. He curls forward, both hands weaving through Jongdae’s hair. One shuddering moan and he comes, unloading heat into Jongdae’s mouth. Jongdae angles the cum away from the back of his throat, mentally patting himself on the back for remembering that much.  
  
Once he’s well and truly finished, Yixing releases his hold on Jongdae’s hair. Jongdae sucks, stroking the now-hypersensitive head one last time with his tongue. Yixing gasps, body spasming from the extra stimulation. Satisfied, Jongdae draws the softening cock from his mouth and tucks it back against Yixing’s thigh. He swallows the load on his tongue without a second thought.  
  
“Wow,” says Yixing. He smoothes Jongdae’s hair where his hands once disturbed it.  
  
Jongdae grins, shrugging one shoulder, trying to play off what just happened like Yixing wasn’t the perfect recipient for Jongdae to give head. “So, that went well.” His voice sounds rough to his own ears. “And Junmyeon isn’t even kicking down the door.”  
  
Yixing grins. He adjusts himself, pulling his pants back on. “Can I return the favor?” he asks, arching an eyebrow.  
  
Eyes resting on Yixing’s tempting mouth, Jongdae sighs. “I’m so hard, Yixing, that if I come here, I don’t think anyone at this party will have any doubts about what we’re doing.”  
  
His eyes crinkle up with amusement. “Good to know, in case I ever want to have midnight sex on the quad, or something.” Jongdae laughs at the thought. When he quiets, Yixing finds his hand. “Rain check?”  
  
Jongdae’s eyebrows shoot up. “Are you asking me if I want a rain check for you to suck my dick? Because the answer to that is yes, absolutely.”  
  
“Good.” Yixing grins. “So, what are you going to do now?”  
  
Jongdae shrugs, standing up. The tent in his pants is definitely noticeable. Sneaking to the bathroom is not an option, even if it is just across the hall. “Probably curl up on Junmyeon’s bed and die,” he says, half-joking. “You should leave when the coast is clear.”  
  
It takes a bit more coaxing, and a few more minutes of making out, but eventually, Yixing unlocks the door and sneaks out of Junmyeon’s room without anyone accosting him in the hallway. Jongdae sits on the floor against the bed, knees drawn up to his chest. He does his best to ignore away his boner and pretend he can’t hear the echoing sounds of Yixing coming over and over in his head.


	4. September - Daydreams

Baekhyun’s awake when Jongdae comes back from grabbing crack-of-noon coffee. He swivels his desk chair around when Jongdae walks in. “Well, well, well,” he says, smug. “I got back before you did last night.”  
  
“Yeah, well,” he says airily as he sits in his own chair, “you know how these things go.”  
  
“Actually, I don’t,” says Baekhyun. His eyes drop from Jongdae’s eyes to just below his face, and Jongdae feels heat rush to his cheeks. “That’s a hickey on your neck, or one mysteriously inconvenient bruise.”  
  
Jongdae inhales, brain whirling to figure out when Yixing could have marked him, but says nothing.  
  
The shock on Baekhyun’s face is unexpected. “Oh my god! I knew it!” Baekhyun snaps his fingers. He crosses his legs and leans forward. “Who was it?”  
  
Clenching his jaw, Jongdae sighs through his teeth. “It’s just a casual thing.”  
  
A gleeful Baekhyun waves his concern away. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. Except we both know you want to, and we both know I need to hear it.”  
  
He brings his coffee to-go cup to his mouth and considers the best way to phrase it. “Yixing and I hooked up last night,” he says and takes a sip. “We’re gonna see how it goes.”  
  
“Yixing?” Baekhyun asks, excited. Jongdae nods, watching Baekhyun’s face as he processes this. Open excitement pinches to closed in scrutiny. The squint around his eyes eases as his eyebrows rise. “Does he know it’s casual?”  
  
Jongdae nods again. “Yeah. We both made that part pretty clear before anything happened.” At that, Baekhyun holds one cheek in his hand and sighs. He combs his fingers through his hair, pushing his dyed bangs back. His roots are starting to show, Jongdae notices, and wonders if Baekhyun will ask him for help when it comes time to touch them up. When Baekhyun says nothing, Jongdae continues. “I mean, he’s a great friend, but it isn’t like that for me.”  
  
But Baekhyun only stares at him, mouth slack in disbelief. So, Jongdae tries again. “Yixing and I don’t have those feelings for each other. It’ll work. And if things start to get messy, we’ll stop.”  
  
This, finally, snaps Baekhyun back to chattering. “If you really fucking believe that….No.” He holds up both hands, as if to absolve himself of cleaning up a mess left on the floor by his favorite pet. “You’re both being asinine. And when it’s over, I’m going to tell you I told you so.”  
  
Out of all the possible reactions Jongdae expected, acerbic wasn’t one of them. “What? Are you joking?” Baekhyun shakes his head. “A little support for me getting some would have been nice.”  
  
“Jongdae,” Baekhyun says, exasperated, “I’ve been there before. Remember? With that guy from Alaska? Someone’s gonna wind up hurt.” He swivels his seat around, looping one arm around the chair back and leaning on it. “I know you. I know both of you. It’s not sustainable.”  
  
Shaking his head, Jongdae takes another drink. His coffee’s getting cold. “I think we both know that. And like I said, we stop before feelings develop.” He sets his cup on his desk. “It’ll be fine.”  
  
Baekhyun doesn’t look convinced, but they’ve known each other long enough to realize when they’re both too stubborn to give in. “Fine,” Baekhyun says eventually. “I’m still reserving the right to tell you I told you so.”  
  
“That’s fine,” Jongdae says. In hopes of dispelling the tense air between them, he jokes, “I’ll make sure not to give you the chance.”  
  
It has the intended effect. Baekhyun chuckles, and things feel easier. “We’ll see about that,” he says, and swivels back around to his laptop. “Was the line at the coffee shop long?”  
  
“Not any longer than usual,” says Jongdae. He drops his cup in his trash can, then stands to go check his reflection in their bathroom. Tugging on his shirt collar, he checks his neck. “Hey, Baekhyun? Where did you see a hickey?”  
  
“Oh, I didn’t.” He wheels himself over a few feet, so Jongdae can see him smirking from the bathroom. “I was kidding, but you totally bought it.”  
  
\---  
  
He tries not to let his mind wander during class, but it’s easy when his history professor starts on a tangent about the origins of the cannon. Their lecture hall doesn’t have much he can focus on, and it’s probably designed that way. No windows for him to stare out. No interesting posters beyond the fire evacuation information. By the third week in September, he already considers himself an expert on the room’s fire safety. Extinguisher on the far right, exit out the left.  
  
Doing his best not to attract attention to himself, he stretches his legs in his seat. Toe wiggling reveals a spot in his shoes where the canvas has worn thin, the color of his socks peeking through where they shouldn’t. Maybe he’ll try ordering a pair online, if he can find a site with the same model. It shouldn’t be that difficult. Jongdae’s pretty certain he remembers Jongin mentioning some website he uses. He makes a mental note to ask Jongin about it later.  
  
Someone sneezes from across the hall and Jongdae makes another mental note to buy immunity boosters from the corner mart. Maybe some pocket-size hand sanitizer, too. `Tis the season and all that jazz.  
  
Jazz. Yixing could be in jazz band right now. Jongdae isn’t sure when their rehearsals are, but Baekhyun probably has Chanyeol’s schedule memorized. He wonders what they’d rehearse, and his mind drums up Yixing’s fingers pressing down chords and melodies on an electric keyboard. Yixing’s fingers, long and slender, a glissando through Jongdae’s imagination from innocent piano-playing to winding in his hair as he licks Jongdae’s lips to curling tight against Jongdae’s scalp as Yixing comes in his mouth, hot and fast and shuddering.  
  
God, it felt so good. Thinking about it still feels good. The dazed look on Yixing’s face afterward, staring down at him through a post-orgasm haze, surfaces in Jongdae’s mind’s eye.  
  
Jongdae’s imagination replays the moment in slow motion. He can still feel the ghost of Yixing’s smile against his lips. It’s enough to make him heave a sigh in class. He readjusts in his seat, holding his head up with one hand and hiding his grin with his palm.  
  
For good measure, he tunes back into his professor’s monologue until he’s satisfied that he’s missed nothing relevant to the midterm. Then, he banishes thoughts of that weekend from his mind.  
  
Except, he hasn’t heard from Yixing since. Maybe Jongdae should text him? Not to hook up again, of course. Not so soon, after…that’d give off the wrong kind of message, like he’s already too invested in this little fling they’ve started. He can text Yixing about something not-sexy. Something normal.  
  
Like his upcoming birthday. Jongdae still hasn’t decided what he wants to do that night. It’s a weeknight, and most of his friends aren’t of legal drinking age yet, so going out definitely is not an option. Maybe they’ll just go out to dinner, so he can order a beer and get carded and make Baekhyun take a picture of him with the server. That could be fun. Or to a movie, except they’d all still have to sneak in flasks. Though, this time it’d be Jongdae supplying the alcohol instead of Junmyeon or Yixing.  
  
Or Minseok. It’s weird without him here. By now, Jongdae assumed he’d be used to the seniors graduating, but Minseok was different. Like an older brother moving out. Most of the other alums he’s still in contact with, either through Facebook updates or Twitter, but Minseok has been more or less off the grid since he went into the Peace Corps. Jongdae hopes he is doing well, building schools or other projects that bring the community together. He was never quite clear on the concept, even before Minseok left the country.  
  
Yixing’s graduating this year. With Junmyeon, he adds sternly. Do they plan to leave for good, too?  
  
Jongdae’s ears catch his professor returning to the lecture schedule, and he starts jotting down notes from the new presentation slide.  
  
\---  
  
In the practice room, Kyungsoo waves him to cut off. “We’ve got it down,” he says.  
  
Jongdae shrugs, reaching for his water bottle on top of the upright piano. “But?” he prompts, unscrewing the cap. The water is room temperature but still soothes his throat.  
  
Kyungsoo sighs. “Yeah, fine. We should take a break first.” He checks his phone for the time. “We’ve got a little over five minutes before Junmyeon wants us back in the main room.” Pursing his lips, Kyungsoo types in his passcode. He checks behind him for an empty chair and sits, fingers flying over the screen.  
  
“Who’re you texting?” Jongdae asks, setting his water bottle back on the upright piano. He pulls the piano bench out and lies across it on his belly, letting his limbs hang down. When Kyungsoo doesn’t reply, he whines and wiggles his arms.  
  
“I’m texting Jongin, calm down.” He pauses. “Who did you think I was texting?” His tone is smug. Too smug. Jongdae turns his head so he can see Kyungsoo, or at least his legs. “And don’t say Junmyeon, because I know you’re lying.”  
  
“I asked one question and end up under interrogation.” Kyungsoo scoffs and crosses his legs. Jongdae laughs. “Don’t scoff at me. I’m older than you.”  
  
“You’re lying on a piano bench like a dead thing.”  
  
Jongdae wiggles again. “I’m not dead yet.”  
  
A moment of silence passes between them while Kyungsoo finishes his text. He locks his phone and uncrosses his legs to slide it in his pocket. “I don’t know why he says you’re so smart.”  
  
It takes a second for Jongdae to understand who Kyungsoo is talking about, but feigns innocence anyway. “Who?” he asks while attempting to push himself off the bench.  
  
“Yixing.” There’s a pause, where Jongdae assumes Kyungsoo rolls his eyes. “Obviously.”  
  
Jongdae stops trying to manufacture the appearance of grace and lets himself slide to the floor. “Not _obviously_ , if it wasn’t obvious to me who you were talking about.”  
  
He rolls on his back, pats a rhythm on his belly, and grins. Upside-down Kyungsoo leans forward and draws back his upper lip in disgust. “You realize wind players empty their spit valves down there, right?”  
  
“You realize there’s cleaning staff, right?”  
  
The scowl deepens. “You think they’ve been here in the last, say, four hours?” Convinced, Jongdae sits up. “You’re welcome.”  
  
Jongdae eases himself to standing by way of the bench. He shakes out his limbs, full of energy, ready to get back to rehearsal. “Yixing probably talks about me to you because he knows you find it annoying.” Kyungsoo’s phone beeps in his pocket. “Unless, it’s bad? Should I be angry?”  
  
Kyungsoo ignores him until he’s replied to his latest text. “It’s funny.” He puts his phone away and looks at Jongdae. “We should go back to rehearsal before we’re late.”  
  
As they leave the practice room behind, Jongdae asks, “Why do you keep telling me that Yixing’s talking about me?”  
  
They turn a corner in the hallway back to their main rehearsal area, a small ensemble room the music department lets them use for their weekly meetings. “Because nobody else seems to be telling you.”  
  
“Nobody else? You mean there are others?” Jongdae pushes at Kyungsoo with his elbow. “Tell me the truth.”  
  
With one hand around the doorknob to the room, Kyungsoo pauses. “You should figure that one out yourself.” He opens the door, holding it open behind him until Jongdae moves forward to take the weight.


	5. September - Jongdae’s Birthday

The realization hits him when he and Baekhyun walk into the restaurant for Jongdae’s birthday dinner. “Baekhyun,” Jongdae says in a low voice. He slides his fingers against the inside of Baekhyun’s elbow, grabbing his arm without drawing too much attention to himself.  
  
Baekhyun slows his walk. “What is it?”  
  
After a quick look around the restaurant and waiting area, he says, “Does Chanyeol know?” When Baekhyun falters, Jongdae shakes his elbow. “About me and Yixing. Did you tell him?”  
  
“I can’t remember.” Baekhyun looks around the vicinity as if the memory lies there, waiting to be spotted and brought to light. “I don’t think he’s mentioned it. Why is that important?”  
  
Jongdae releases his arm, inhaling through clenched teeth. “I haven’t really told anyone, except you.”  
  
Leaning his head in, his eyes light up. “Why do you want it to be a secret?”  
  
“I don’t,” Jongdae says, the corners of his mouth turning down. “I don’t need everyone in my business.”  
  
“It’s Yixing’s business, too.” Baekhyun shrugs. “And, if I haven’t told Chanyeol, he might’ve.” His focus shifts from Jongdae to someone standing behind him, and he steps forward. “Hi, we have a reservation for a party of eight?”  
  
Jongdae turns to face the host behind the small podium. “What’s the name?” the host asks.  
  
Baekhyun grins and shoots a look at Jongdae from the corner of his eyes. “Fünke.”  
  
“Oh my god,” groans Jongdae. The host smiles at them, a paradigm of polite disinterest as they scan down a sheet of paper. “Can we let that go?”  
  
“Never.”  
  
“Fünke, party of eight.” The host looks back up at them. “Would you like to wait for the rest of your party or be seated?”  
  
They exchange glances before Baekhyun says, “If you can seat us now, we’d prefer it.”  
  
“Certainly. I’ll check to see if the table is ready.”  
  
As the host disappears into the restaurant, Jongdae says, “Still? I said that like, one time. Freshman year. When I was wasted.” Baekhyun cackles. “It’s getting old.”  
  
“Then get wasted,” Baekhyun says. “Make better material.”  
  
“Ha, ha. I’ll make sure to get right on that.”  
  
“Starting with tonight?” Baekhyun says, eyebrows raised. “I’m buying you your first drink, you know. It’s my right as your roommate, and your best friend in the whole wide world.”  
  
Jongdae laughs. “Is that so?”  
  
“Your best-friend roommate that you love so much.”  
  
“I’m not drinking tequila shots all night,” Jongdae says flatly. “I don’t think they have tequila at this place.”  
  
Baekhyun scoffs. “Are you serious? You realize they’re right next to a college campus, right? They have to know their clientele.”  
  
Shrugging, Jongdae assents. “Yeah, that’s true. Still.” He holds Baekhyun’s gaze firm. “No tequila.”  
  
The door opens behind them, and Jongdae turns to see Chanyeol walk in, arms spread wide like his grin, followed closely by Yixing and his small smile. Jongdae meets his eyes, dark and full of mirth, before letting Chanyeol envelope him in a tight bear hug. “Happy birthday, Jongdae!”  
  
Jongdae hugs him back. “Thanks.” He steps back, gaze once again catching on Yixing, and fights a losing battle against a broad smile. “I’m glad you guys made it.”  
  
Once Chanyeol steps aside, Yixing moves in to hug him. He can feel Baekhyun watching him, a prick on the back of his neck, and does his best to keep the hug short. But it’s so natural to fold himself into Yixing’s arms, to press against his chest and the zipper of his black hoodie, because he’s already done it before. And just like all those times, Jongdae steps away, letting Yixing’s hands drag along his torso until they fall back at his sides. “Wouldn’t miss this,” Yixing says, tucking his fingers in his pockets. His thumbs press against his hips, and Jongdae flicks his eyes away before he can be accused of staring.  
  
“Yeah,” Chanyeol says, “Baekhyun told me he’s buying tequila shots all night.”  
  
“That was not a table-wide offer,” Baekhyun corrects quickly. Chanyeol wraps an arm around his shoulders and pulls Baekhyun to his side. “Just for Jongdae. To loosen him up a little.”  
  
“Or a lot,” Chanyeol leers.  
  
Does he know? Jongdae’s stomach twists. He carefully keeps his gaze from wandering towards Yixing, which isn’t difficult when he’s scolding Chanyeol and Baekhyun. “No tequila shots!”  
  
“Excuse me.” The host must have returned at some point during their friendly squabble, now grabbing menus from the other side of the podium. “Your table is ready. If you could follow me?”  
  
Jongdae finds himself pushed along by Chanyeol, both his hands on Jongdae’s shoulders, as the four of them follow the host to their table. It’s in the back corner of the restaurant, near the kitchen and away from the front door and bar. Their table is two smaller ones pushed together, a booth bench against the wall on one side, four chairs on the other. Jongdae makes Chanyeol slide in first, and Baekhyun follows him in so Jongdae can sit at the end. Yixing shakes his head and takes a chair on the other side. Before leaving, the host dispenses menus and assures them that their server is on the way.  
  
“So, if I can’t buy you a flight of tequila shots, what do you want?” asks Baekhyun, flipping open the menu.  
  
“Most people tend to start with appetizers.”  
  
“You know what I mean,” he says.  
  
Yixing clears his throat. “I wouldn’t mind getting an order of bruschetta.”  
  
“Okay, bruschetta. Done,” says Jongdae with a nod. “Let’s get two orders, once the others get here.”  
  
“Where are they, anyway?” Baekhyun asks, shifting around for his phone.  
  
“Oh!” Yixing looks up from the menu. “Sehun had to take another shift, so he won’t be able to make it.”  
  
“Aww, that’s too bad,” says Chanyeol. “He definitely would have been on Team Tequila.”  
  
Jongdae smacks his menu down on the table. “There is no Team Tequila!”  
  
Eventually, the waiter takes their appetizer order and brings out glasses of water for the table. Junmyeon, Kyungsoo, and Jongin trickle in one by one. Once everyone is seated, Jongdae makes his drink order.  
  
“Can I see your ID?” their server says, and the table erupts into applause. Jongdae hands it over with a grin. “Twenty-one, huh? Happy birthday.” The server returns it to him.  
  
“Wait, can we get a picture of you carding him?” asks Baekhyun, holding up his phone. The server acquiesces, and Jongdae tries to look as cheesy as possible before their server makes a quick getaway.  
  
The rest of dinner is tricky. Not ordering and consuming a big bowl of pasta, but rather, managing the conversations. He listens for any hint that Chanyeol might know, that Yixing might have let on about the clandestine blowjob from that weekend. Any raised eyebrows, silent shared looks, private laughter.  
  
A cheeky joke at Jongdae’s expense (“Did anyone buy him a cake so we can watch him blow out all those candles?”) raises his suspicions in a way it wouldn’t have two weeks ago.  
  
Baekhyun, blessedly, says nothing incriminating (“No cake, he was afraid I’d try to slam his face into the frosting. Can you believe the distrust?”). The look on his face, however, is troublesome (one Jongdae reads as _I’m sure we can find something else for him to blow_ ).  
  
Jongdae grits his teeth and bears it in the name of researching the extent of his privacy. It’s a great excuse to watch Yixing more often than usual, because if Baekhyun asks, and he will, Jongdae can honestly say he was trying to gauge their reactions from across a table full of joking friends. It also means he catches Junmyeon asking Yixing about his course-load this year, and Yixing grinning at Jongdae when he mentions getting lucky with a helpful study buddy.  
  
When Baekhyun leans up and whispers something into Chanyeol’s ear, Jongdae realizes the simplest option would have been to take Yixing aside earlier and ask him if Chanyeol knows. But it’s too late now for that, he thinks, watching Yixing delight in tickling Junmyeon’s neck with a straw wrapper. Yixing laughs when Junmyeon flinches away and swats at him. He catches Jongdae’s gaze as he dodges the retaliation, and Jongdae’s pretty certain Yixing smiles wider.  
  
Jongdae’s eyes slide to Chanyeol, who watches him even as Baekhyun talks to him, and the sick feeling of suspicion returns. He makes a face at Chanyeol before letting his focus drop down to his half-finished meal.  
  
Near the end of dinner, Jongdae seizes his chance. A few minutes after Yixing leaves for the bathroom, he excuses himself from the table, hoping to corner Yixing. He lucks out, holding the door open as the other occupant of the bathroom leaves. Yixing steps away from the urinal, zipping his fly. “Hey, Jongdae.”  
  
“Does Chanyeol know?” he asks, standing beside the door.  
  
Yixing steps to the sink, pumping soap into one palm before wetting his hands beneath the motion-activated sink. “Know what?”  
  
“About,” Jongdae gestures with his hands between the two of them, then holds his fist up to his mouth and bulges his cheek with his tongue, “that.”  
  
Turning his head over his shoulder to look at Jongdae, Yixing grins. “So that’s what you’ve been worried about all night.”  
  
“I’m serious.”  
  
“Are you? I thought this was casual,” Yixing teases.  
  
“Stop avoiding the question.” Jongdae crosses his arms. “It is casual.”  
  
“I haven’t even returned the favor yet.” He rinses the soap foam under the stream, then flicks the water from his hands into the sink. “Would it be too un-casual if that was your birthday present?”  
  
“What?” Jongdae blinks. He lowers his voice. “Right here?”  
  
Yixing meets his eyes in the mirror. “Would you let me?” He catches his bottom lip between his teeth. Jongdae’s pulse races at the idea of standing in a locked stall, Yixing on his knees, Jongdae’s fingers in his hair.  
  
The door opens and another patron comes in, talking on a cell phone in a language Jongdae doesn’t understand. He steps up to a urinal and unzips without pausing his monologue. Yixing raises his eyebrows before grabbing paper towels from the dispenser, turning his back to Jongdae. The hoodie hangs from Yixing’s broad shoulders, lower hem resting on the top of the flat ass in his grey jeans, legs spread shoulder-width as he stands. Jongdae knows exactly what he wants for his birthday.  
  
Yixing turns around, sparing a glance for the chattering man pissing angrily in the bathroom. “Never mind,” he says, following Jongdae out of the room.  
  
“Later,” Jongdae says and leads them back to their friends. In their absence, a cake appeared in front of Jongdae’s spot, complete with five pairs of expectant eyes reflecting the glow of lit candles. “What? But I thought….”  
  
“One, two, three,” Junmyeon counts them off. They launch into a rendition of the happy birthday song, where Baekhyun and Kyungsoo show off their vocal ranges for the back half of the restaurant. Yixing joins in, bumping his shoulder into Jongdae, and Jongdae doesn’t try to suppress his smile.  
  
He takes his seat as they finish the verse. “Hurry up,” Jongin says, leaning one arm on the table and gesturing with his chin. “I want some of that cake.”  
  
Only then does Jongdae look down to read ‘Happy Birthday Fünke’ written in blue icing. He groans, looking to the likely perpetrator sitting beside him. “Seriously?”  
  
Baekhyun waggles his eyebrows. “Surprise,” he sing-songs, pulling the cake towards him. He picks up a knife and cuts the cake into slices. “Okay, now which piece do you want?”  
  
“How about the F-U?” Jongdae says, and the table laughs. Baekhyun shakes it off with a grin, and actually serves him that particular piece.  
  
To Baekhyun’s credit, it’s a good cake, his favorite chocolate with vanilla icing. “Thank Yixing,” Baekhyun says, eyes widening as he says the name.  
  
Jongdae looks to him in surprise. Yixing shrugs. “Yixing came over to bake it at my apartment earlier today,” says Junmyeon before shoveling another bite into his mouth.  
  
“I helped make the icing!” Chanyeol says with his mouth full. “Consider it your present from the two of us.”  
  
“Thank you guys,” Jongdae says with feeling. If Chanyeol knew about the thing with Yixing, he wouldn’t have mentioned presents, right? It makes sense, Jongdae reasons, for Chanyeol to assume the cake is the gift if he doesn’t know about Yixing’s other offer. Something unlocks inside him, a little bit of stress shifting and rolling off his shoulders. “Now, who’s buying me my second drink?”  
  
By the time they leave, Jongdae is just a bit buzzed, which Chanyeol assures him is not how he’ll end his own twenty-first birthday celebration. “I’m just saying,” he shrugs, “I wouldn’t mind not being able to remember the end of my night.”  
  
Jongdae laughs. “Don’t worry,” he says. “I’ll make sure to take lots of pictures so you can be embarrassed when you wake up.”  
  
Their group slowly fractures, Jongin peeling away first to bother Sehun at work. Kyungsoo and Junmyeon leave a few minutes later, going their separate ways to dorm and apartment. To Jongdae’s surprise, Baekhyun is the one to suggest he and Chanyeol leave. “But it’s Jongdae’s birthday,” Chanyeol protests. “We should go to the liquor store and you should buy him so much alcohol that he gets absolutely plastered and gains ten pounds.”  
  
“Chanyeol, I’ve got an early lab tomorrow.” Jongdae shakes his head. “And I need to get work done. I’m going back to my room.”  
  
“And we,” Baekhyun says, drawing out the word as he shakes Chanyeol’s arm, “are going back to yours.”  
  
Chanyeol raises his eyebrows in surprise. “Oh, are we?”  
  
He looks to Yixing, who shrugs and says, “I’m going to the library. Text me when I can come back.”  
  
“You’re the best roommate, you know that?” Chanyeol says. “I’m gonna miss you next year.”  
  
“But next year, maybe you won’t have to kick your roommate out every time you need to fuck,” Yixing says with a laugh.  
  
“Maybe,” Chanyeol shrugs. Baekhyun tugs him in the direction of the closest campus shuttle stop. “Okay, okay, we’re going.”  
  
And then, in the light of the streetlamps, it’s just Jongdae watching Yixing, and Yixing watching Jongdae.  
  
“So.” Yixing rocks forward on his toes with his hands in his pockets, looking everywhere but at Jongdae. The unspoken question hangs in the air.  
  
“Come over,” says Jongdae.  
  
“Okay,” says Yixing.  
  
They don’t talk on the short walk to Jongdae’s dorm, or more precisely, Jongdae listens while Yixing pontificates on the details of baking a cake, frosting it, and covertly delivering it to the restaurant before any of them arrived.  
  
Jongdae stops him once they’re behind the closed door of his room. “Chanyeol doesn’t know, does he?” he asks. Yixing angles his head just so, holding his gaze for an extended moment. He shakes his head. Jongdae relaxes. “Probably for the best.”  
  
“Ashamed?” Yixing takes a step forward.  
  
“No.” Jongdae stands his ground, chin stubborn. “Privacy is key. You know they’d all tease us relentlessly if they found out.”  
  
“Does Baekhyun know?”  
  
He hesitates. “Baekhyun…figured it out.”  
  
“Did he.” Yixing unzips his hoodie, draping it over the seat back of Jongdae’s desk chair.  
  
“Can we stop talking?” Jongdae asks, stepping into Yixing’s personal space. His voice is low as he says, “I want my present.” He looks at Yixing’s mouth, breath hitching in his throat when Yixing’s hands find his hips.  
  
“You want me to give it to you?” Yixing murmurs, tilting his head down.  
  
Jongdae’s hands fist in his shirt, pulling him the rest of the way in. “Give it to me.”  
  
The slow sweetness from the previous weekend vanishes with the space between their lips. Jongdae pushes one hand into Yixing’s hair, holding the back of his head, keeping him close enough to nab his bottom lip between Jongdae’s teeth. His tongue races across Yixing’s slick lips to tangle in his mouth. Yixing hums, his hands moving up from Jongdae’s hips to pull at the back of his shirt.  
  
They come together and break for gasps of air in bursts, bruising and rushed. And, yeah, Jongdae definitely feels desperate for Yixing to touch him. He grinds his hips against Yixing, groaning when Yixing rolls back in reply. The force of it is enough to send Jongdae off balance, stepping back but keeping his fists buried in Yixing’s shirt, tugging him along. They stumble, bumping and gasping and kissing, until Yixing has him pressed against Baekhyun’s desk. Jongdae resists the temptation to shove a stack of books to the floor to make room for himself, and instead occupies his hands with scratching Yixing’s back through his shirt.  
  
Yixing shudders, breaking away. “God,” he says. Jongdae can’t focus on anything besides Yixing’s lips, reddened and swollen and slick, and he closes his eyes to taste them again. Yixing snakes one hand up Jongdae’s torso to cradle his jaw, fingers gentle on his cheek. The gesture is so tender, Jongdae sighs into his mouth and tries his best not to melt.  
  
When Yixing’s other hand follows, holding Jongdae’s face in his palms, Jongdae lets Yixing angle him to suit his whim. They come up for air one last time before Yixing licks a stripe over Jongdae’s neck, over a vein fluttering with Jongdae’s racing pulse. Satisfied with the gasp that elicits, Yixing settles his mouth there, sucking and nibbling.  
  
Jongdae’s consciousness shifts to orient itself around that spot, burying a hand in Yixing’s hair to encourage him to stay. Moaning from the intense sensation of Yixing sucking bruises on his neck, Jongdae slides his legs wider. Yixing rolls his hips, moving closer, grinding against him. Their hardening cocks brush against each other through their jeans. Jongdae cants his hips up, seeking that friction when Yixing makes another circle. Behind him, books slide out of the way and cascade to the floor in a sequence of thuds.  
  
They break apart enough to breathe. “Oops,” Jongdae says breathlessly. He swallows, hard, and the twinge of pain in his neck quickly subsides with the warmth of Yixing’s reapplied mouth. “We should probably…ah….”  
  
“Hmm?” Yixing hums into his neck, slides his tongue down the column of his throat, and settles his lips over a new patch of skin.  
  
“Pick those up?” He manages to get those words out before Yixing’s hips twist again, and Jongdae groans. “Later.” Yixing smiles against his throat. “Fuck.”  
  
Two bruises later, Yixing’s mouth finds Jongdae’s again. It’s like Yixing’s hands are all over Jongdae all at once, and he has trouble keeping up. “I need this off you,” Yixing says. Jongdae hears a thread rip when Yixing peels his shirt up his body.  
  
“God, okay,” Jongdae says. Yixing drops his shirt to the ground. “Yeah, you too.” He reaches for the hem of Yixing’s shirt, pulling it off him and tossing it aside, where it lands on Baekhyun’s fallen books.  
  
Jongdae’s seen Yixing shirtless before, many times. But not this way, breathing fast and waiting to be touched. From the natural grace in his collarbones, to the freckles scattered across his chest, down his developed abs and the angles of his hips, Yixing is something of a specimen. Jongdae forces his eyes back up Yixing’s body and realizes he’s being checked out too. He balls his fists, relaxes them. Waits for Yixing’s eyes to meet his again.  
  
“You’ll be happy to know,” Yixing says with a half-smile, sauntering forward to bracket Jongdae’s hips with his hands, “that I won’t make you put your shirt back on.”  
  
With a laugh, Jongdae says, “It’s my birthday. I call the shots.” Smug, Jongdae raises his eyebrows. He puts one hand on Yixing’s shoulder and presses him down.  
  
Yixing laughs, resisting Jongdae’s cue. “Impatient?”  
  
“Hardly.” Jongdae eases the pressure off. “I’ve already waited days.”  
  
When Yixing leans in for another kiss, Jongdae lets him, eyes falling shut. Yixing’s mouth is firm against his, tongue slick over Jongdae’s lips. Yixing pulls away, then presses his mouth to Jongdae’s neck. The next kiss dips between his clavicles, the beginning of a trail Yixing’s mouth blazes from neck to nipple to belly to waistline, and then he’s on his knees and shimmying Jongdae’s pants down his thighs.  
  
Once his cock is out between them, Yixing leans in like he’s about to lick along the semi-hard shaft. Instead, his breath ghosts warm and humid over Jongdae’s sensitive skin. “Waited for what.” His lips are slick and kiss-swollen and _right there_.  
  
Jongdae groans, breathing heavy. His hips stutter forward, seeking Yixing’s mouth but catching air. “Waited to watch you blow me.” Yixing hums and Jongdae feels the vibration down to his balls. He closes his eyes. “God, and I really want to fuck your mouth.”  
  
More humming, this time from the other side of Jongdae’s cock, then hot breath. “I know.” Yixing’s fingers press around the base of Jongdae’s shaft, holding him steady.  
  
“Really?” Jongdae looks down to find Yixing’s face closer to his hips than he anticipated, in a good way, because a reddened mouth that close to his dick is always a good thing. He swallows, throat dry. “I won’t unless you want me to.” Both of Jongdae’s hands find Baekhyun’s desk behind him. He holds tight to the edge of the desk. “Fuck your mouth, I mean.”  
  
Angling Jongdae’s dick up, Yixing ducks his head beneath. “You want,” warm air bursts at the base of Jongdae’s dick. “To fuck,” Yixing’s lower lip drags along the underside of Jongdae’s cock, a tortuous run that makes his hips jump upon first contact. “My mouth,” Yixing delivers the words to the tip of his dick, lips moving near the slit with the barest hint of tongue.  
  
A muscle slides in Jongdae’s jaw as he closes his eyes. He breathes in deep, shaky on the exhale. Swallows again. Jongdae can feel Yixing’s breath against his skin, coming in an even rhythm. He opens his eyes. Yixing’s mouth is tantalizing, his tongue wetting his lips puckered close to the head of Jongdae’s erection. His once-sleepy brown eyes are so, so dark, staring up at Jongdae like this is an elaborate game of truth-or-dare that Jongdae is losing, badly.  
  
“No?” Jongdae feels Yixing say this more than hears it. His fingers slide as he wraps his hand around the base of Jongdae’s cock. “Maybe next time.” Yixing’s lips wrap hot and wet around the head of Jongdae’s dick. Jongdae’s knees go weak with the way Yixing so casually slides his mouth down the shaft, tongue laying flat along the underside of his cock. The friction and pressure from the wet heat of Yixing’s mouth gives rise to a soft groan trailing Jongdae’s exhale.  
  
Despite the fact Yixing has just begun to blow him, Jongdae’s afraid he’s going to come all over Yixing’s face. The mental image, Yixing open-mouthed with jizz smeared across the bridge of his nose and trailing down one cheek, doesn’t help Jongdae keep confidence in his self-control.  
  
Yixing drags his mouth from the base to the tip and down again, picking up speed and incorporating a twist with his hand. Jongdae gives himself over to Yixing’s display of skill, holding the desk with a dual white-knuckled grip, keeping his hips unmoving by sheer force of will. Flicking, swirling, fluttering tongue, squeezing hands, the tight seal of lips sliding along his dick…he’s reduced to noise, a waterfall of senseless words strung together with broken gasps and drawn-out moans. Milking Jongdae’s every word, every please, every whimper, Yixing responds accordingly. He spoils Jongdae with the attention, the furling of his tongue against the base of his balls, wide and flat stripes against the underside of his shaft.  
  
The hand wrapped around Jongdae’s cock squeezes tight, and to Jongdae’s pleasant surprise, Yixing’s other hand slips past his balls. “Fuck,” he breathes, shifting his hips away from the desk. He slides his legs wider, though Yixing doesn’t stop moving his incredible mouth. One finger massages circles against Jongdae’s asshole. “This is the best birthday ever.”  
  
Lifting his head from Jongdae’s cock, Yixing says, “So, can I bend you over Baekhyun’s desk?” He licks around the head of Jongdae’s penis and presses the tip of his finger against Jongdae’s entrance. The buzz from the alcohol has subsided, replaced by something far more electric. “Can I fuck you for your birthday?”  
  
“Oh god,” Jongdae opens his eyes, meeting Yixing’s gaze again. “Yeah.” The finger at his backside shifts inside him, a small intrusion, the beginning of the stretch. His head feels like it’s spinning on its own axis. “ _Yes._ ” Yixing pulls his finger out and resumes the quick rubbing from before. Jongdae wants to spread himself wide and let Yixing give and give and give, but there’s a principle to the thing. “On my bed.”  
  
A blink. “Okay.” Yixing breaks eye contact to focus on fluttering his tongue around the head of Jongdae’s dick, making a ridiculous slurping noise that somehow puts Jongdae even closer to the edge. Jongdae releases his grip on the desk, though he can feel the lines pressed into his palms from the edge. “Where’s your lube?”  
  
Shit. “Uh, I don’t think I’ve got enough,” Jongdae says. He runs his fingers through his hair. Of course he wouldn’t have the right amount of lube for Yixing to slick up his cock and give it to Jongdae how he needs it right now. There’s no way they can leave and come back without ruining the mood, or worse, getting caught buying this by people they know. Jongdae raises his eyebrows, turning to the beds. “Baekhyun might. He’s definitely got condoms.”  
  
The crooked smirk on Yixing’s face makes Jongdae’s throat catch. That and the casual stroking of Yixing’s hand around Jongdae’s dick, of course. “You think he’d mind?”  
  
“It’s for a good cause,” Jongdae says, trying not to hiss when Yixing presses his thumb counterclockwise around the head of Jongdae’s cock. “He’ll understand.”  
  
After completing a final circuit, Yixing pulls away and Jongdae whines before he can stop himself. Yixing doesn’t react, busy taking off his pants in a way that avoids snapping the elastic waistband against his boner. Jongdae makes himself useful and follows suit, kicking away his pants.  
  
“I think his stuff’s around here somewhere,” Jongdae says, opening drawers in Baekhyun’s desk. When he comes up empty, he searches the dresser. Yixing is on his hands and knees peeking under the bed, and Jongdae tries his hardest not to stare at the little ass wiggling in the air.  
  
“Like what you see?” Yixing says, spreading his knees apart and looking back over his shoulder at Jongdae.  
  
He bites his lip in a grin and rolls his eyes. “Yes.” Jongdae considers telling Yixing it’s more than just his petite ass he likes, but that might be weird, so he keeps quiet.  
  
“Good.” Yixing laughs and reaches for something under Baekhyun’s bed. “Is this…? Oh, no, nevermind.”  
  
In a middle drawer, beneath a clump of socks, Jongdae finds what they’re looking for: the blue drawstring overnight bag where Baekhyun keeps the goods. Or at least, the ones Jongdae knows about. “Got it.” Yixing gets to his feet as Jongdae pulls out the condoms and, yes, Baekhyun’s stock of lube should be more than enough. He closes the drawer partway with one elbow.  
  
Plucking a condom from Jongdae’s hands, Yixing says, “Unless you want this another way.”  
  
“No, I’m fine with that,” Jongdae says. He drops the other condoms back in the bag. “For now, anyway.” Grabbing a selection of lube, he tosses the bottle on his bed. It lands with a thunk and rolls toward his pillow.  
  
The packet tears open only partway, and Yixing has to push and pull to get the rest of the foil open. “Good to know I can come to you when I want to get fucked.”  
  
Jongdae raises his eyebrows, letting the bag settle on the floor by his bed. “I don’t need to put my dick in your butt to fuck you, you know.”  
  
“I know.” Yixing crumples the foil and tosses it in the trash. By some miracle, he makes it. “But I know what I like.” He rolls the condom on himself while Jongdae strokes his own cock. “Or what I’d like to try, if we ever get there.”  
  
With a shrug, Jongdae says, “Fair enough.” He rolls his wrist around the head of his dick a few times before releasing it. Climbing on the bed, Jongdae uncaps the lube, spreading it across his fingers. He tries not to think too much on what they’re about to do yet he can’t stop imagining it. The base of his spine feels tight but ready to begin. His slicked fingers start to work open his asshole, slow and easy.  
  
It’s awkward at first, working himself open and relaxed while Yixing stands beside him, dick in hand. The mattress dips when he joins Jongdae on the bed. “Here,” Yixing says, hands curving around Jongdae’s waist and pressing him on hands and knees. “Let me.” He leans forward over Jongdae, dick brushing between Jongdae’s legs, and grabs the lube. After putting some on his fingers, he takes over the process. His other hand wraps around Jongdae’s dick, stroking him.  
  
“I can do it myself,” Jongdae says, but his half-hearted protest fizzles with the press of a kiss to his back. He can do it himself, but there’s something exhilarating about someone else doing it to him. For him.  
  
Another kiss, this time on the opposite side of his back. “I know.” Jongdae lets his eyes close, feeling his body relax, muscles unlocking under Yixing’s gentle ministrations. He’s more than ready by the time the first finger makes its foray into his body. Yixing presses the digit in one slow, smooth motion, and Jongdae lets an appreciative noise slip out. “Cute,” Yixing says, and Jongdae snorts.  
  
“You’re two knuckles deep in my ass. How is that cute?”  
  
The finger slides out at the same pace it pressed in. “It just is.”  
  
It seems like time passes quicker between the first finger and when Yixing applies more lube before adding the second. Yixing stops stroking Jongdae’s dick in favor of rubbing his lower back as he presses them in. The stretch begins to tap into what Jongdae’s craving, like that first wayward scratch reaching the near-unreachable spot between one’s own shoulder blades. The beginning of a long satisfaction.  
  
Once Jongdae has relaxed enough to accommodate two fingers, Yixing crooks them slightly. He rocks them back and forth, shifting until he finds what he’s looking for. Jongdae spreads his knees wider, giving him better access to his ass, encouraging Yixing to rock those slick fingers over his prostate.  
  
Yixing, Jongdae is gratified to find, is more than happy to oblige. He gropes Jongdae’s ass wider. Leaning in, Yixing nips one cheek and slaps it with his free hand. Jongdae’s yelp slips into a sigh as Yixing’s fingers rub against the little bundle. He whines when Yixing pulls his fingers out for another application of lube, groans when they take their rightful place back inside him. Jongdae squeezes his eyes shut as white-hot heat threatens to boil over.  
  
“Now,” he gasps. “Something else, more, anything.” Yixing murmurs something Jongdae can’t catch, but then he feels the stretch of another finger and Jongdae groans. The third finger relaxes him open like the others, better now because he has Yixing’s free hand rubbing his back, his ass, his thighs. Better now, because three fingers is the biggest yet, and to Jongdae, size definitely matters.  
  
Leaning forward, Yixing runs his free hand along Jongdae’s sides. “Anything.” He rocks his fingers back and forth, more gentle than the thrust Jongdae wants. But Jongdae’s almost acclimated to the intrusion.  
  
“You heard me the first time,” Jongdae says. He pushes back until Yixing’s knuckles press against his ass. “Give it to me.”  
  
Wiggling his fingers on the way out, Yixing obliges. Jongdae resettles himself on the bed, shifting his hands and knees into a more comfortable stance. The cap pops open before Yixing squirts lube, coating his length. “Whoops.”  
  
Jongdae looks back over his shoulder. “Whoops?”  
  
One arm reaches for Jongdae’s hips while the other maneuvers the bottle closed. He drops it to one side of the bed. “Spilled a little bit.”  
  
“Whatever, I have to do laundry soon anyway.”  
  
“Gross,” Yixing says, aligning himself with Jongdae’s asshole and pressing his dick inside. Jongdae’s vision grows unfocused on that first push, Yixing fitting himself all the way to the base. “Oh, shit.” His voice is breathy, his hands tight on Jongdae’s hips.  
  
Jongdae squeezes his eyes shut. “Don’t move yet.” Yixing is like a perfectly-sized toy, just the right weight. The right amount of stretch.  
  
“You’re so fucking tight, shit,” Yixing says through clenched teeth. He palms Jongdae’s ass, kneading it out. “Fuck, Jongdae.” One hand moves up from Jongdae’s hips, along his back, long fingers spread out between Jongdae’s shoulder blades.  
  
Jongdae arches under his touch. He presses Yixing back with his hips, then slowly shifts forward. “Stay still,” he says when Yixing tries to follow him. Certain his request will be heeded, Jongdae pulls himself off Yixing’s dick until he’s afraid Yixing will slip out. Then, he presses against Yixing, taking him back in again, unlocking a groan of satisfaction from deep in Jongdae’s chest. “God, yes.”  
  
He picks up speed after those first few, slow pulls. Yixing helps him along, running his hands along Jongdae’s back and sides while his hips thrust. He starts shallow, letting Jongdae lead him on the depth of each stroke. Jongdae wants as much as he can get.  
  
The sound of skin slapping against skin crescendos until the moment when Yixing gives in to Jongdae’s pace, hips springing into action. Jongdae’s eyes squeeze shut with the force of a moan as their hips slam together, Yixing filling him, stretching him. Jongdae’s lost himself enough that he pushes back against Yixing, fucking Yixing as much as Yixing fucks him.  
  
“Touch me,” he says. “Yixing, Yixing, touch me.”  
  
“Okay,” Yixing says. Hands skitter down his back, around his thighs. Kneading his ass, tugging his dick.  
  
Another surge forward at a different angle makes Jongdae’s head spin faster, blood pumping hotter. His ass flexes, clenching around Yixing as he buries himself deep. “Touch me,” he says again, and Yixing understands. His hand finds Jongdae’s cock, heavy between his legs. Hunching forward, Yixing jerks him. “Gimme, gimme.” He presses kisses to Jongdae’s neck, biting and touching and fucking. “Harder.” Jongdae’s voice is hoarse. “More.”  
  
“More?” Yixing says, harsh through gritted teeth.  
  
Jongdae whimpers, tells him how good he is, how much Jongdae needs this, how much, how good. How fucking good Yixing feels, thrusting into him with the speed Jongdae can only dream about achieving on his own. With each stutter of his hips, it’s Yixing, it’s Yixing, it’s Yixing.  
  
The praise sends Yixing into overdrive. Crying out, Jongdae fists his hand in the sheets to hold himself steady. It’s not enough. Another drive sends them both lurching forward. Jongdae grabs the headboard. Yixing wraps one arm around his torso, the other still wrapped tight around Jongdae’s cock. Everything Yixing does crowds Jongdae’s mind, pushing and tugging him closer to release.  
  
Below his ear, Yixing begs him to do just that. “Please come, Jongdae.” A twist of his wrist, a squeeze of his fingers. “Please.” Hips piston into him, the motion less fluid than before. Yixing’s close, too. He tightens his arm around Jongdae’s chest as the pressure inside Jongdae mounts. “Please.” Adding to his case, Yixing licks at his neck before nipping and sucking on the spot.  
  
With muscles burning, Jongdae manages to thrust back a few more times before the tension overflows. He comes loud, his mess spilling over in Yixing’s hand. Jongdae shakes beneath Yixing as he resists his body’s inclination to hunch into his spasms, drawing the tension out, the pleasure. And then Yixing holds him tighter, both arms wrapped around his torso, and thrusting deep as he fucks through his own orgasm. He scratches across Jongdae’s chest, biting at Jongdae’s shoulder, and Jongdae stretches his neck to permit it.  
  
They collapse forward, Yixing’s weight a warm and welcome blanket on top of Jongdae. There’s cum on his stomach, and lube up and down his crack. Yixing’s dick is missing from inside his ass. It’s replaced by the growing feeling of a satisfying soreness like a muscle well-exercised. His mouth is dry, his lips tight. Swallowing is almost painful. Jongdae should get his water bottle from his backpack. And maybe a throat lozenge.  
  
Yixing nuzzles into the crook of his neck, hand soothing the scratches on Jongdae’s belly. Moving is the least ideal option. The smack of dry lips near his ear preludes Yixing’s cracked voice. “So, remind me again why we haven’t done this before?”  
  
Jongdae snorts, chuckling even though it hurts. Two throat lozenges, then. “Technicalities, or something.” He twists beneath Yixing, who shifts to let him. Jongdae pulls Yixing into an embrace. “I like your present best,” he says, grinning when Yixing chuckles against the bruises on Jongdae’s neck.  
  
“Baekhyun helped.” Yixing kisses his jaw. “His lube. His condom.” Sitting up on one elbow, Yixing looks down at Jongdae with dark-lashed eyes couched in post-sex glow. The flush across his cheeks, down from the tips of his ears, is a paler, softer pink than before. “I should give it back to him.”  
  
Throwing one arm over his eyes, Jongdae laughs. “Just throw it out in the bathroom.” Cool air rushes down to cover him when Yixing eases off the bed. “Can you grab my water bottle? From my backpack?”  
  
“Okay.” Yixing’s croak echoes off the tiles in the bathroom. The faucet turns on.  
  
Without Yixing to protect him from the university’s air-conditioning cooling the sweat on his skin, it’s chilly. Jongdae shifts on the bed until he can pull the comforter over his legs. Better. He touches his neck, wincing when his fingers press against a bruise. Baekhyun won’t need to call his bluff this time. Jongdae will probably need some of the green-tinted concealer he’s noticed Baekhyun puts on his own…trophies from Chanyeol.  
  
From the bathroom, the faucet shuts off and Yixing returns to the room. He rifles in Jongdae’s backpack until he finds the water bottle, taking a drink from it first. Jongdae lets his eyes trail down Yixing’s body and back up again. “Hey,” he says. “Leave some for me.”  
  
Grinning at Jongdae with a mouthful of water means some of it dribbles from the corner of Yixing’s mouth. Jongdae laughs even though it hurts, clutching his stomach. “Okay, okay.” Yixing sounds closer to human than frog now that he’s had something to drink. He walks the bottle over to Jongdae’s bed. “Here.”  
  
Jongdae accepts it, sitting up to drain the rest. “Thanks.” He feels better, but he could also use a full bottle for himself. Twisting the cap back on, he flops back on the bed and groans, eyes closed. “I don’t wanna do work.” The empty water bottle rolls of the bed to the floor. When Yixing doesn’t join him, he cracks one eye. “Are you leaving?”  
  
“Uh, yeah,” Yixing says, though he hasn’t moved from Jongdae’s bedside. “No feelings, right?”  
  
Rolling to the side of the bed, Jongdae grabs his wrist. “Post-sex cuddling isn’t feelings.” He pulls Yixing on top of him. They resettle on the mattress with a shared laugh.  
  
“You should probably text Baekhyun something,” he says a few minutes later, sleepy like he’s fighting off a nap.  
  
Jongdae certainly is. He yawns. “Yeah, after I put the room back together when you leave.”  
  
“Mm. Five more minutes.” Yixing curls around him, and Jongdae finds it hard to object.


	6. September - Planning

Most days, Jongdae takes lunch in the form of a pre-packaged to-go sandwich and a banana wolfed down between classes. When his class early Monday afternoon gets cancelled, he pops into the cafeteria for a real chance at a meal.  
  
Tray loaded with food, he lucks out when he spots his a few of his friends from across the cafeteria. “Good to see you! I thought you had class,” Chanyeol says when Jongdae sits beside him.  
  
“Professor cancelled it this morning.” He surveys his plate before digging in. “So, how’s everybody’s day going?”  
  
“You just missed Yixing,” Baekhyun says. Jongdae reacts with indifference, though he has to remind himself not to touch the fading hickeys on his neck. Today’s probably the last day he’ll need to use concealer. “He’s off at music theory or some shit.”  
  
Sehun raises an eyebrow. “Uh, okay.” To Jongdae, he says, “My day’s going okay. Jongin here promised to help me during my shift this afternoon.”  
  
“Oh, is that today?” asks Jongin from where he’s pillowed his head in his crossed arms. He groans. “I want to go home and nap.”  
  
“Nope.” Sehun stabs his fork through a few leaves of lettuce. “You’re going to keep me company and listen to me complain about having to clean the smoothie machine every hour.”  
  
Jongdae laughs. “You could have your work-study job through the call center,” he says. “That is the worst.”  
  
Sehun meets his eyes. “I’m sure I could do it, get money from alums. I can be persuasive when I want to be.” He’s young, but his stare can be intimidating. Jongdae is immune.  
  
“So, anyway,” Chanyeol says, “I was thinking we should throw Yixing a surprise party for his birthday.”  
  
“A surprise party?” Baekhyun grins, eyes off Jongdae and back on his boyfriend. “That’s a great idea!”  
  
“Can we go out that night?” Sehun says. “I think it’s a Friday. If I request it off this week, I should be free.” He looks at Jongdae with some remorse.  
  
“I’m not mad that you missed my birthday dinner,” Jongdae says.  
  
Jongin perks up from his sleepy arm-cocoon. “Dancing would be fun.”  
  
Leaning toward Jongin, Sehun asks, “Fun, like ‘let’s invite Soojung’ fun?” Jongin groans and tucks his head back into his arms, ignoring Sehun’s cackling.  
  
“I mean,” Kyungsoo’s eyes slip towards Jongdae. “Your dinner was kind of a sausage fest.”  
  
Baekhyun’s laugh is cut short abruptly as he chokes on something. Jongdae hopes it’s his own saliva as he watches Chanyeol pound him on his back. By the look on Kyungsoo’s face, he hopes the same.  
  
“What’s so funny?” asks Sehun.  
  
“Yes,” Jongdae says dryly, tightening his grip on his cutlery “Enlighten us.”  
  
Once Baekhyun has recovered, he says, “Nothing, just a coughing fit.” He clears his throat into his fist. “So, surprise birthday party for Yixing where we go out and dance and get drunk.”  
  
“After an extensive pregame,” Chanyeol adds, rousing a chorus of agreement from their other underage friends.  
  
Baekhyun bows his head. “After an extensive pregame. That’s how we’ll get it all started.” He grins. “Cake and dancing and booze. What could go wrong?”  
  
“Don’t say it like that,” says Kyungsoo. “I want to vomit already.”


	7. September - Impromptu

Jongdae comes back from his weekly late-night theories of international politics lecture to find his room overrun in an impromptu study session. Yixing and Kyungsoo lounge on his bed, quizzing each other with flash cards.  
  
Sitting on his bed, Baekhyun looks up from behind his laptop when Jongdae comes in. “Hey,” he says, “I hope you don’t mind. I ran into them trying to study in the library when all the group rooms were full.”  
  
“Yeah, whatever,” he says, watching Yixing’s back and how he doesn’t turn to greet Jongdae immediately. Kyungsoo at least gives Jongdae a small wave when Jongdae sits at his desk before returning his focus to the handmade notecard Yixing holds up for him. “I know how it goes. What are you guys studying?”  
  
“Sociology,” Kyungsoo says, wrinkling his forehead like Jongdae’s asked this question before. Or maybe he’s simply distressed with whatever vocabulary word is on the notecard.  
  
Yixing puts the cards down and finally looks over his shoulder. “Hey, Jongdae,” he says with a smile. “Our professor has exams at the end of each month.”  
  
“That sucks,” Jongdae says. He keeps his jacket on, still chilled from the autumn evening outside, and digs for his weekly planner in his bag. It might be an antiquated way of keeping his deadlines straight but it works for him. Scanning through his notes to himself, he figures out what he needs to do (geology prework for his next lab) and finds the right workbook.  
  
It’s nice having the room somewhat full. Between the quiet clacking of Baekhyun on his laptop, listening to music through earbuds, and Kyungsoo and Yixing studying, it’s quiet enough Jongdae can focus but not the formal, pin-drop silence of the library. Which is good for things like research and paper-writing, but the workbook is easy for him. He finishes the worksheet, checks it against the corresponding chapter in the textbook, and moves on to the next subject.  
  
Halfway through the assigned readings for his history class, Yixing and Kyungsoo switch study roles. Focusing on schoolwork is more difficult when it’s Yixing’s voice doing most of the talking now, trying to explain things like the dialectical model to Kyungsoo. Jongdae sure as hell doesn’t know what it is, but then again, he’s not the one in sociology.  
  
A mix of relief and disappointment washes over Jongdae when Yixing and Kyungsoo decide to pack up. “It’s late,” Kyungsoo says. “I’m studied out.”  
  
“Yeah. I need to make it to the gym tonight anyway,” says Yixing pulling on his maroon hoodie. Jongdae wants to warn him how cold it is outside, and to take another layer, but he says nothing. “Thanks for letting us take over your room.”  
  
“Sure thing,” Baekhyun says, taking out his earbuds and draping them around the back of his neck. He sets his laptop to one side, getting off his bed to hug his friends goodbye. Jongdae stays where he is, preferring to bump fists with Kyungsoo and Yixing as they walk past his desk and out the door.  
  
When they’re gone, Baekhyun leans against Jongdae’s desk, arms crossed. “You still haven’t paid me back from last week.”  
  
“I went all the way across campus for these after class tonight,” Jongdae says, unzipping another pocket in his backpack. He produces a box of condoms and two containers of personal lubricant, one for himself and a smaller one for Baekhyun. The bottles of lube he deposits on his desk. “Here.” Jongdae breaks open the box and offers it to his roommate. “Pick your condom.”  
  
Baekhyun sticks his hand in as far as he can manage it and rifles around like he’s drawing lots in a raffle. “Is that mine too?” he asks once he’s selected a packet.  
  
“The smaller one,” Jongdae says. “To make up for what we used.”  
  
With a shrug, Baekhyun takes it. “Thanks.”  
  
“I thought about picking up another pack of hair dye for you too, but I wasn’t sure what you wanted to do about that,” says Jongdae. He closes the box of condoms and sets it next to the lube.  
  
Opening his dresser, Baekhyun adds Jongdae’s replacements to his drawstring bag. “Yeah, I was thinking of going to like, brown. Something dark.”  
  
“Brown? A natural color? I thought you would’ve stuck with pink.”  
  
Baekhyun closes the drawer and leans against it. “Yeah, but it’s so hard to maintain.” He turns around. “Maybe go back to black and let my hair recover from the past few months of dye jobs.”  
  
Playing with his own hair, Jongdae grins. “Nothing wrong with black hair. Mine needs a trim, soon.”  
  
Fingers fidgeting with his bangs, Baekhyun walks into their bathroom to take advantage of the vanity mirror. Jongdae watches him for a bit before turning back to his homework.  
  
“What about plum?” Baekhyun asks, breaking the silence of a few minutes.  
  
Jongdae marks his place with an impromptu bookmark and turns back around. “Plum?”  
  
“Yeah,” Baekhyun says. “That kind of bluish, dark purple color.”  
  
“I know what plum is,” Jongdae scoffs.  
  
Baekhyun rolls his eyes. “Do you think it would look good on me?”  
  
Jongdae shrugs. “I don’t know. Maybe.” His mouth twists as he considers Baekhyun. “You know what? Yeah, try it out. And if it doesn’t work, you can just go back to black.”  
  
Humming at his reflection, Baekhyun doesn’t give an answer one way or another. Jongdae gives up and returns to his reading, finishing the chapter and moving on to the scanned PDFs available on the course website. After he downloads them, he figures he’s earned a break, and sooner rather than later he’s browsing websites for possible birthday gifts for Yixing.  
  
“Why are you looking at cock rings?” Baekhyun asks, draping an arm around Jongdae’s shoulder as he leans in to get a better look. “That one’s no good, just look at those ratings.”  
  
“Baekhyun!” Jongdae angles his screen down, almost closing his laptop.  
  
“One star. Pitiful.”  
  
Determined to change the subject, Jongdae asks, “Have you decided on your hair color?”  
  
“Is the toy for you or Yixing?”  
  
“I asked my question first.”  
  
Baekhyun leans back, removing his arm from Jongdae’s shoulders and anchoring his hand on the seat back. “Technically, I asked you why you were looking at them before your weak attempt at deflection. But since my hair is more important than your ass, yes, I think I’ll find a plum dye.”  
  
“Nice,” Jongdae says. He tries to manipulate the trackpad without being able to see the screen. Once he’s pretty sure he’s got the mouse over the close-window, he clicks. Just to be sure, he clicks four more times. “I think that’ll be a really good look for you, you know? A good color, a nice change. Autumnal alternative.”  
  
Shifting away, Baekhyun crosses his arms as he walks back to his bed. “Yeah, maybe.” He crawls on his bed, setting himself back up with his laptop. “Yixing mentioned you, you know.” Jongdae waits for Baekhyun to elaborate, turning to look at his roommate when he doesn’t immediately continue. “Nothing about sex toys, don’t worry.” Baekhyun puts his earbuds in and turns his attention to his computer screen.  
  
Jongdae peeks at the laptop screen. He has no windows open anymore, but that’s fine. “Okay but, what did he say?” Folding open his laptop, Jongdae brings up a new browser window. “Baekhyun, c’mon.”  
  
“Hm? What?” Baekhyun doesn’t look up.  
  
With a heavy sigh, Jongdae says, “Fine. I was thinking about getting one of them for Yixing, as like a birthday present.” Baekhyun looks up, expression lifted in excitement. “But it’s completely inappropriate.”  
  
His face falls. “Seriously?”  
  
“What?” Jongdae asks, shrugging. “We’re just friends. Friends don’t get friends cock rings.”  
  
“No,” Baekhyun says, lifting a finger. “Friends don’t get friends _shitty_ cock rings.”  
  
Shaking his head, Jongdae says, “I’m still not getting him one.”  
  
“Not from the drugstore website you’re not.” Baekhyun waves Jongdae over. “Come here, I’ll show you where to buy Yixing a quality toy.”  
  
Jongdae’s face burns. “I’m not going to buy him a sex toy for his birthday. I don’t know if he wants one! We didn’t talk about it last time.”  
  
“Last time, as in, you’ve gotten some between now and when you raided my overnight bag?”  
  
“No, that was the last—we’ve both been busy, okay?” He huffs and tries again. “How we hook up, like with sex toys or kinky shit or not or whatever, is none of your business, honestly.”  
  
“That’s true. Just thought I’d help.” Baekhyun returns to his laptop, fingers tapping away at the keys.  
  
“And we’re just friends. Not like you and Chanyeol, spending almost every night together.”  
  
“Mm.”  
  
After an extended pause, Jongdae asks, “So, Yixing asked about me? To you?” His roommate doesn’t acknowledge him, but that doesn’t stop Jongdae. “Are you sure? Because sometimes Kyungsoo says Yixing talks about me in sociology, and I don’t know. Don’t you think that’s kind of weird?”  
  
Baekhyun shrugs. “Why would it be weird between friends?” Jongdae falters, uncomfortable with his inability to explain his concerns, but Baekhyun continues. “He’s never bad-mouthing you, if that’s what you’re worried about.”  
  
“No, I know that,” Jongdae says, though there is some relief in hearing that confirmed by someone else. “It’s hard to say besides weird. Or maybe, weird isn’t the right word.” They’re both quiet as Jongdae gives the matter a little more thought. He turns back to his laptop. Maybe the issue is that he doesn’t know what Yixing is saying. If he could just know for certain, then maybe he could put the matter to rest.  
  
If Yixing has so much to say about him, why is he hearing it all secondhand? What’s so important, so different, that his friends need to bring it up? It doesn’t make sense.  
  
Jongdae looks over to Baekhyun, who has absorbed himself in headphones and computer screen. Biting the inside of his cheek, Jongdae uses studying to stopper the flow of unwieldy questions flooding his mind.


	8. September - Breaktime

He catches Yixing in a practice room Friday night, surprising him with a knock on the door. Yixing looks up from the sheet music sitting on the piano and waves him in. It reminds Jongdae of the first day they met, two years ago, Yixing tinkering on the piano and Jongdae determined to make new friends. “You’re here late,” Jongdae says as he steps inside.

“Yeah, well,” Yixing shrugs. “Our jazz band has a performance around the middle of next month, and I’m not doing well narrowing down songs for my senior recital.” Jongdae unloads his backpack from his shoulder, slowly with eyebrows raised in question, and the bag hits the floor when Yixing nods. “Plus my private lessons instructor wants me to accompany another student during their recital, so there’s that. Oh, and midterms are coming up. I can’t believe it’s almost October.”

Jongdae nods. “I know, right?” He pulls the room’s spare chair around to sit next to the piano bench. “Goes by fast. That sucks about all the practice work piling up, though.”

“It’s fine,” Yixing says. “I’ll get it done.” He looks at Jongdae, gaze sweeping down his form. It’s a quick gesture but Jongdae still feels the residual heat from the last time they found themselves alone together. “You’re here late, too.”

They watch each other for a breath. Jongdae shrugs. “The schoolwide a cappella showcase is in a few weeks too.”

“You should text me with the date so I don’t forget about it this year.” Yixing’s smile is effortless, and Jongdae can only nod and promise to send him the details. He wants to kiss him, so tangible a desire that Jongdae has trouble keeping his heart rate in check. Yixing puts a hand on Jongdae’s knee. “You think we are the last ones down here?”

“I dunno.” Jongdae lets Yixing spread his knees apart. He scoots closer on the piano bench. Jongdae swallows hard. “What’s gotten into you?”

The advance pauses. “I am tired of practicing.” Yixing meets his eyes again, holding them. He looks like he never stopped moving after he rolled out of bed this morning. Maybe even the afternoon before. His voice is quiet when he next speaks. “Nothing as involved as last time. Something quick, Jongdae, please? If you have the time.” He scoots closer. The outside of Jongdae’s knees bump against Yixing’s thighs. His eyes flick down, catching on Jongdae’s mouth.

“I have created a monster,” Jongdae laughs. Yixing laughs too, though a beat later, less fully. His mind is somewhere else, somewhere he wants Jongdae to follow. Somewhere Jongdae wants to go.

Reaching for Yixing’s wrist, Jongdae pulls him in, across the bridge of their legs until Yixing straddles Jongdae’s lap and Jongdae can lace his hands together over the small of Yixing’s back. Yixing wraps his arms around Jongdae’s neck, settling himself. “You like it.” He leans in, angling his head to one side. The world shrinks to the sound of the building's air vents, groaning as a fresh gust whooshes through them, and the still of the silence in the moment when Jongdae breathes out and Yixing breathes in.

Eyes closed, Jongdae expects the softness against his mouth when it comes. What he doesn’t expect is the languid tongue snaking into his welcoming mouth, tangling with his own so soon. Hot and wet and soft, a week’s worth of exhaustion and frustration pours out between them. Jongdae takes it all, surprised by his own greed. It overwhelms him, hungry to hold Yixing as they press together and break for air, little gasps and choked hitches in breath.

Trailing his fingers beneath the hem, Jongdae explores the soft skin of Yixing’s back. Yixing’s hands inevitably tangle in Jongdae’s hair, angling his face and pulling him closer. Their mouths seal together again, Yixing sucking Jongdae’s bottom lip between his own. He likes to do that, Jongdae’s learned, and Jongdae likes when he does.

Jongdae also likes to make Yixing smile into their kiss. This reward Jongdae most frequently achieves whenever he nips at Yixing’s upper lip and tugs. They break away, Jongdae grinning and Yixing laughing, both breathless.

Their noses brush against each other, and Jongdae lets his eyes open halfway. Sighing, Yixing indulges himself with a small nuzzle against Jongdae’s cheek.

In his lap, the first stir of Yixing’s hips sends a spark down Jongdae’s spine. Rolling against Jongdae, he grinds in his lap, a subtle reminder of the last time they met. Jongdae cants his hips up into the motion. One hand trails down to Yixing’s ass, gripping his firm little butt through his jeans. Yixing arches his back, pressing his hips into the touch as he starts a new rotation, grinding slow-motion against Jongdae.

Turning his head, Jongdae nips at Yixing’s neck. To his surprise, Yixing squeaks and spasms away from Jongdae’s mouth. Seated firmly in Jongdae’s lap, he slides his hands from Jongdae’s hair as he leans back. He’s tucked his head against one shoulder in attempt to protect his neck.

“Oh my god,” Jongdae says.

Yixing stays where he is, head resting awkwardly to one side. “No, I’m ticklish there.”

“I know, but it was just a kiss.” Jongdae slides another hand down, both anchored on Yixing’s butt.

“It still tickles.” Cautiously, Yixing lifts his head. “Don’t do that, okay?”

Jongdae nods. “Okay.” He rolls his hips under Yixing to the best of his ability. It’s nowhere near as smooth as Yixing, but then again, Jongdae’s the one underneath him. “Can I do that?”

Grinding back, Yixing grins. “You can do that.”

One corner of his mouth ticks up in a smirk. Jongdae smoothes his palms from Yixing’s ass, over his hips, coming to rest on the zipper of his jeans. “Can I do this?” He pops the button open, then looks up to Yixing for permission.

“Oh,” says Yixing. “You can definitely do that.”

After a quick glance toward the door, Jongdae uses both hands to unzip Yixing’s pants. It takes some finessing, slow and unhurried and peppered with kisses, but eventually Yixing’s waistbands are at the top of his legs. Jongdae finds Yixing’s cock still somewhat soft. Between two fingers and thumb around the base, Jongdae begins to stroke at a gentle pace, a warm-up.

Yixing’s skin is hot velvet in his hands, growing firmer under his touch. Letting his wrist go limp at the top and bottom of each stroke, his hand flicks further as he changes direction. He pauses near the head of the dick, rubbing the frenulum and around the ridge, never actually touching its crown. Yixing presses his forehead to Jongdae’s collarbone, arms wrapping around his shoulders. A muffled groan into Jongdae’s shirt encourages him to speed his pace, now that Yixing is hard enough to handle it.

Happy to oblige, Jongdae wraps his palm around Yixing’s shaft and tightens his grip. The journey to top speed is a slow one, Jongdae quickening his pace for a few strokes before relaxing for a few more. Yixing shifts in his lap, fingers pressing into Jongdae’s shoulder and one hand tugging the hair lightly on the back of his head, as Jongdae teases him with strength and speed.

Jongdae wishes he could harness the affection springing in his chest at every sigh and soft moan. He wants to bottle it up and save it for a rainy day in the stacks, drowning in deadlines from too many assignments pushed back. Instead, he bumps the speed up faster. With his free hand, he rubs Yixing’s back, feeling it heave with uneven breath. When Yixing spills over on Jongdae’s hands, it’s with a cut-off gasp of Jongdae’s name that could easily sear itself into Jongdae’s skin.

They sit there, huddled together, Yixing panting as Jongdae eases his hand off Yixing’s cock. The hand on Yixing’s back remains there, soothing. Jongdae’s hard in his pants but he knows he won’t have to wait long when Yixing sits back. Meeting Jongdae’s eyes, he says, “Your turn,” and slides off Jongdae’s lap.

While Yixing tucks himself back into his underwear, Jongdae contemplates wiping his hand off on his shirt, or maybe his pants. Instead he brings his palm to his mouth and licks it off as quick as he can, shuddering at the sharp taste. Halfway through, he notices Yixing’s finished making himself decent and is watching him. Jongdae makes a show of the last drag, letting his tongue lay flat as he licks from the bottom of his palm up the side of his hand to the tip of his pinky. Yixing’s mouth goes slack, his eyes following Jongdae’s tongue as he licks each of his fingertips.

Only once Jongdae finishes does Yixing drop to his knees, pushing the piano bench aside so he can fit better between Jongdae’s legs. He makes quick work of Jongdae’s pants, pulling them down just enough to access his dick. With a satisfied hum, Yixing uses long, firm strokes with his fist to make Jongdae’s breathing change to quick and rough.

The first touch of Yixing’s mouth sends Jongdae’s hands scrabbling to find Yixing’s hair. His lips close tight to suckle at the head, mouth weaving intricate patterns against the tip. His hand pulls with swift purpose, as though it’s a race to see how quickly Yixing can bring Jongdae to the edge. Jongdae would be embarrassed how effective Yixing is if it wasn’t so hot. He runs his hands through Yixing’s hair before backing off, biting one finger in his mouth and letting himself watch.

It’s a sight to behold, Yixing’s eyes closed with just the tip of Jongdae’s cock in his mouth, cheeks hollowed as he sucks. One hand keeps pace like a metronome, steady and ruthless against time. The other continues to tug at Jongdae’s pants, pulling them down further so Yixing might slip his hand inside. Below. Cupping his balls with long fingers and a warm palm.

Jongdae’s eyes squeeze shut when Yixing presses two fingers just behind them, and he gasps around his own finger. Yixing pushes on the spot again, his thumb grazing over Jongdae’s balls and back again.

Wet heat pushes down Jongdae’s length as Yixing takes him into his mouth, lips following his fist. It’s a one-off thing because as soon as Jongdae hits the back of Yixing’s throat, Yixing pulls back up to the tip. He leaves behind a trail of wet, one his hand glides over as he resumes stroking. Another press with his fingers has Jongdae seeing white behind his eyes, but he resists the urge to come. They might be caught by another student, or even campus security wandering the halls at night, but Jongdae doesn’t want this to end yet.

It’s difficult maintaining that sense of coolness when his friend-turned-fuckbuddy is leisurely giving him some of the best head in his life.

The sensation of Yixing’s tongue dancing around the head of his dick pushes him closer to the edge. His grip is tight, his mouth is hot, and just when Jongdae’s lost himself to those sensations, Yixing teases Jongdae’s balls. The tension building in Jongdae’s body twists one revolution tighter.

After a comfortable interval of manual stroking, Yixing swallows him down again, and this time, Jongdae’s body reacts too strongly for him to resist. Biting down on his own fist, Jongdae comes, unwinding and shuddering through each wave. Yixing takes it all, each stripe of cum, even when Jongdae’s other hand finds itself fisted into Yixing’s hair. And when he’s finished, Yixing swallows it without complaint, licking his lips and setting Jongdae’s cock back down as if it were nothing more than an interesting, delicate trinket.

“You were quieter this time,” Yixing says as Jongdae pulls his pants up. “I think I liked it better, before. When you were louder.”

The comment cuts in a way Jongdae doesn’t expect. “Sorry to disappoint,” he says, running his thumb absentmindedly over the teeth marks he left on his own fingers.

“No apology necessary.” Yixing gets to his feet. “I’ll just have to do better.”

Shaking his head, Jongdae smiles. “You did a pretty fucking amazing job in getting me to come in like, three minutes or less.”

Out of all things, it brings a flush to Yixing’s cheeks. “Thanks.”

“No, thank you,” Jongdae says, and means it.

Yixing considers the piano bench, then his own bag on the far side of the room, then back to Jongdae. “I should probably get back to practicing.” He shrugs, putting his hands in his pockets. Recognizing the invitation to leave, Jongdae stands. “I hope I didn’t keep you too long.”

Jongdae shakes his head. “No, I was actually on my way back to my dorm to watch Netflix or something.” He grins, reaching out to swipe his thumb across Yixing’s chin. His thumb rests there a moment too long, enough that Jongdae wants to lean in and kiss him. Yixing’s lips part, his eyes dropping to Jongdae’s mouth before flicking back up to meet his eyes. Jongdae takes a deep breath and lets his hand fall back to his side. “See you later?”

“Yeah,” Yixing says, nodding as he turns to sink himself back into practice mode. He pulls the piano bench back into place. Jongdae turns back to pick up his bag, hefting it on one shoulder. “Don’t stay up too late.”

He opens the door and looks back at Yixing, who has settled himself in front of the keys. “You either. Get some sleep, okay?” It earns Jongdae a dimpled smile and a wave, and he closes the door behind him. Walking down the hall, he can hear the muted sounds of Yixing playing piano, and smiles.


	9. October - Plum

Jongdae always makes it to geology lecture before Yixing, which means Yixing always has a seat saved for him. Which means Jongdae’s five weeks into seeing Yixing scan the room for him, watching his eyes light up when he spots Jongdae, and the happy feeling of companionship when Yixing drops into his seat with a cheerful, “Thank you!”  
  
Today though, Jongdae has a question to ask, safe from the prying ears of their friends. He’s figured out the phrasing. The delivery should come easy. He just needs his chance.  
  
“Oh, Jongdae, would you happen to have your lab workbook with you?” Yixing asks, a flurry of movement as he get himself set up for lecture. “The question about identifying the different types of rocks. Like, I know what I’m supposed to be looking for but the pictures are terrible.”  
  
Jongdae bends down to check his backpack. “Probably not,” he says. “I don’t tend to bring it with me. But you can always stop by and take a look, though I don’t think the pictures in mine will be any better.”  
  
Yixing pouts. “Yours are black and white, too?”  
  
“I think so,” Jongdae says. “No workbook.” He zips his bag up and rights himself. “Sorry, Yixing.”  
  
“It’s okay. Figured I’d ask.” Yixing starts doodling on the side margin of his notebook page. “Has Chanyeol said anything to you about my birthday?”  
  
Considering his answer, Jongdae says, “He’s mentioned some plans, here and there, but I haven’t heard anything about what you’d like to do. I mean, it is your birthday. I don’t think you’d want to spend the night toking up with Chanyeol in your room.” He pauses, tilting his head as he considers it. “I mean, if that’s what you want to do, I’ll probably find myself someplace else.” Quieter, he adds, “But you can find me afterwards, and I can give you my own idea of a good time.”  
  
“Yeah, well, maybe another night we’ll do that.” Yixing laughs. “Not on my birthday, though.” He bites his lip and erases part of his doodle. He’s one of the few people Jongdae knows uses pencils instead of pens to take notes. Maybe because with a pencil he’s able to erase his drawings. “Has he invited you to Junmyeon’s for dinner yet?”  
  
This time, Jongdae can answer honestly. “No, he hasn’t mentioned dinner.”  
  
“I’m trying to get a group dinner going at Junmyeon’s place, since he has a kitchen and the space for everyone, so you should try to make it.” It’s cute how he asks, like he’s excited to invite Jongdae to his birthday party but anxious to make sure Jongdae will be there. “I’ll text you the time, maybe around seven-ish.” Yixing’s pencil moves in quick strokes, shading in a block of his drawing with cross-hatches. It kind of looks like a Cheshire cat, a big feline with a wide, curled-up mouth and a disappearing tail. Or perhaps it is an unfinished cat of the regular sort, but that mouth is too distinct for Jongdae to see it as anything but the Cheshire. “I kind of want to Skype with Minseok, like all of us together, but I don’t think he has a good web connection where he is.”  
  
“Have you heard from him recently?” Jongdae asks.  
  
Yixing shakes his head. “Not since those last couple blog updates.”  
  
“That’s all I’ve heard from anyone.”  
  
Shifting the position of his pencil, Yixing sighs. “Still, I want to do something, you know? But Chanyeol seems to think all our friends will be busy.” He looks at Jongdae with skepticism. “Baekhyun, too busy to hang out with me. On my birthday.”  
  
“Uh, yeah,” Jongdae says. “I think Baekhyun has a new vocal coach and his lessons got moved to Friday nights.” He coughs, unsure if he should perpetuate this white lie to surprise Yixing. “Or something. Really sucks, you know?”  
  
The pencil in Yixing’s hand flips again, and one paw of the cat becomes curled eraser residue. Yixing wipes them away with a few quick brushes of his hand. “Yeah, that’s what Chanyeol said, too.” The gloom in Yixing’s voice makes Jongdae’s heart melt. Unthinking, he reaches out, settling a hand on Yixing’s shoulder. Yixing stops drawing, looks at Jongdae’s hand, then looks at Jongdae.  
  
Jongdae swears his heart stops, but he soldiers on and aims for a smooth change of subject, something away from the half-truths. “Have you been talking to our friends about me?”  
  
Caught by surprise, Yixing blinks. “What?”  
  
So much for a smooth delivery. “I mean,” Jongdae amends, taking the chance to pull his hand away from Yixing, “Kyungsoo has mentioned you talk about me in sociology.” Jongdae shrugs, adding a self-effacing grin to the mix. “When people talk behind your back, they’re usually talking shit. But I don’t think that’s what you’re saying.”  
  
Once the shock clears from Yixing’s face, he grins, looking back down to his sketch. The cat lounges on a tree branch, and Jongdae’s positive now it’s the Cheshire. “Then, what do you think I’m saying?”  
  
But Jongdae doesn’t get a chance to answer. The course’s teaching assistant dims the lights in preparation for the slides. From the podium, their professor opens the PowerPoint file and sets it into presentation mode. Jongdae can’t remember noticing them walking in.  
  
Beside him, Yixing has abandoned his doodle, sitting forward in his seat, and Jongdae knows better than to try to distract him in class. He sighs and picks up his pen as the lecture begins.  
  
\---  
  
Poised on the closed toilet seat and swaddled in his go-to dyeing day towel, Baekhyun plays music from his phone while he waits for Jongdae to finish mixing the dye with the developer. It’s a deep shade of aubergine, a darker color than Jongdae anticipated, though Baekhyun assured him when they picked it out it would come out the right tint. Jongdae unpins the first quarter of hair.  
  
“I don’t have to talk about Chanyeol,” says Baekhyun while Jongdae begins to apply the first of the dye with his gloved hands. “I know it’s probably weird for you, since he’s still your friend.”  
  
“It’s fine.” Jongdae works the dye into the strands. Baekhyun’s hair is short and fairly thin, so it never takes Jongdae too long to get through his whole head. They’ve had this system in place since Baekhyun decided to bleach his hair sophomore year. “To be honest, it’s been weird not hearing you talk to me about who you’re hooking up with, after hearing it for so long.”  
  
“Yeah, but, it’s Chanyeol. You’re sure you’re fine?”  
  
“I’m sure. Just don’t fill me in on the sex.”  
  
Baekhyun hesitates before he blurts, “I really like him.”  
  
Jongdae laughs. “I mean, I gathered that much.”  
  
“No, I mean, I really like him. Like Christmas-presents serious.”  
  
“Christmas-presents serious?” Jongdae raises his eyebrows. “Valentine’s-presents serious?”  
  
“I’m afraid so,” Baekhyun says solemnly.  
  
From the mixer bowl, Jongdae collets more of the dye and daubs it on the next section. “A month in and you’re this sure?”  
  
“It’s been five and a half weeks. And I told you, I really like him.”  
  
“Wow.” The silence between them isn’t much more than a few seconds. Jongdae knows it’s because Baekhyun wants him to prod the answers out of him, even if they’re right on the tip of his tongue. “So if you really like him, what about Chanyeol? Is he in it for that kind of run, too?”  
  
“I think so.” Baekhyun goes quiet again, which starts to worry Jongdae.  
  
This time, he doesn’t prompt his roommate. He lets the music playing from Baekhyun’s phone fill in the gap before he’s too uncomfortable and starts talking about anything that comes to mind. Their upcoming a cappella showcase. The presentation for his public communications class. The jazz band night cafe, though this topic he only touches for a moment and keeps his words focused on Sehun’s participation. He segues into the midterms coming up, the faded Halloween decorations already up in the library lobby, the way pumpkin spice everything has campus in its clutches.  
  
Jongdae strictly does not mention Yixing, who seems to touch every part of Jongdae’s life lately, whether by being there or mentioned in conversation or waiting at the back of Jongdae’s mind to take center stage in a daydream.  
  
Three-quarters of the way through dyeing Baekhyun’s hair, Jongdae gets cut off. “I’m afraid he thinks I’m not serious, though, and I don’t know how to show him I am,” Baekhyun says. From this angle, Jongdae can see the nervous way Baekhyun rubs at his cuticles. “It’s like, I haven’t been able to get him into a serious discussion when we’re alone. He just wants to fuck.”  
  
“Got it,” Jongdae says, loud as if he could belatedly stop Baekhyun from mentioning his sex life with Chanyeol.  
  
“I don’t want to send him a message like, ‘We need to talk.’ It feels too soon for that. But, we do need to talk.” Baekhyun sighs. Jongdae wants to smack his hand to make him stop fidgeting, but there’s no smooth way to do that without getting dye on Baekhyun’s hands. It’s just Chanyeol, he wants to say, but for Baekhyun, he will never be ‘just’ Chanyeol anymore. “Don’t get me wrong, I don’t. I’m not in love with him. And I might never be, I don’t know.”  
  
“We’re still young.” Jongdae unpins the penultimate section of hair. “It’s okay not to know.” The clear plastic gloves are irrevocably stained purple by the time they apply the dye to this part. Baekhyun doesn’t answer Jongdae immediately. This time, the song playing from Baekhyun’s phone is one Jongdae knows all the words to, and he sings along as he works the violet sludge into Baekhyun’s hair.  
  
The song ends, and Baekhyun’s voice is quiet. Anxious. “I know that.” The next song starts up, a fast-paced song from the Top 40 chart. Baekhyun skips it. “I should bring it up one of these days, before we get too handsy.”  
  
“Right,” Jongdae says. “Presumably you guys talk before you spend the rest of the night sucking face.” The memory of Yixing pressing him against Baekhyun’s desk comes to the forefront of his mind. He swallows hard and wills it away with mild success. “Or something.”  
  
“We do. Just never about things so serious.” Baekhyun stretches his back when Jongdae stops touching his hair. “I don’t want to talk about it in a group because I know he’ll be uncomfortable and try to play it off with a joke.”  
  
“Good point.” There’s one final section to dye, and then it’s processing time. He scrapes the last of the dye and applies it to Baekhyun’s hair. “Probably wait until after Yi—er, Friday night’s events.”  
  
Baekhyun laughs. “You can say his name, Jongdae. It won’t summon him from the mirror or anything.”  
  
Gritting his teeth, Jongdae resists the urge to tug on Baekhyun’s hair as he coats it with dye. “In case of your absolute worst outcome. Then you don’t have to see him or miss out on the fun. There.” He steps back, taking off his gloves and tossing them in the mixer bowl. “Time for showercap.”  
  
From beneath the phone on his lap, Baekhyun raises the cap to his forehead, pressing his fingers against the elastic. Jongdae grabs the other end and pulls it over his head. Once it’s anchored over Baekhyun’s hair, Jongdae tugs it in short bursts until his ears stick out from beneath it. Then he wipes the smears and drips of dye from the nape of Baekhyun’s neck, around his ears, and the corners of his forehead.  
  
“How long does this one need to process?” Jongdae asks, throwing the wipes in after the gloves.  
  
“I’m setting a timer now, Mom,” Baekhyun says, tongue-in-cheek. Jongdae rolls his eyes and dumps the whole dye mess into a plastic bag. He ties it up and sets it in their bathroom’s trash can. “Done.”  
  
Moving around to sit on the side of their shower-tub, Jongdae says, “Besides that, Chanyeol’s not being a dick?” He crosses his legs and looks up at Baekhyun. “Because if he’s being a dick, you need to tell me so he and I can exchange words.”  
  
Baekhyun shakes his head. “Besides something that’s probably totally normal dating jitters, he’s great.” The smile that breaks on Baekhyun’s face is wide and genuine, like a giggle caught by a candid photo. He holds his phone for a moment, keeping it from slipping to the ground when he stretches his legs. “We’re great.”  
  
“Good.” Jongdae nods and pats Baekhyun’s knee.  
  
“So about Yixing.”  
  
“Not happening.”  
  
“Aw, come on,” Baekhyun says, crossing his legs over at the ankle. He deposits his phone back in his lap. “You used my concealer for a week after your birthday, which was when you guys used my condoms.” Jongdae removes his hand. “And now you won’t say his name. C’mon, Jongdae.”  
  
Leaning forward and crossing his arms, Jongdae shakes his head. “Nope, nope, nope.”  
  
“Please? Not even a little bit?” Baekhyun changes tactics when Jongdae doesn’t respond. “Okay, then what about Friday.”  
  
“What about it?”  
  
Baekhyun gestures with his hands. “Has he, you know, said anything about his birthday?”  
  
“Yeah, he mentioned something yesterday about dinner at Junmyeon’s,” Jongdae says. “Apparently Chanyeol told him everyone’s pretty busy. I said I thought you had a change in vocal lessons.”  
  
With a hum of approval, Baekhyun nods. “Good cover.”  
  
“So is that the plan? Ambush him at Junmyeon’s apartment after making him sad for a few days?”  
  
“Isn’t that how all surprise parties go?” Baekhyun says. “You make them think everyone’s forgotten their birthday, or are too busy with other appointments that day. And then, when they’re sad and lonely and all boo-hoo about it, you hit `em with the cake and party.”  
  
Jongdae frowns. “There has to be a better way. We shouldn’t intentionally make him sad.” He knows Baekhyun is watching him, but Baekhyun is the one with chemicals under a shower cap seeping pigment into his hair. He isn’t at his most intimidating. “What if he doesn’t go to Junmyeon’s place at all? And does Junmyeon know we’re taking over his apartment?”  
  
“Yeah, he offered to have it at his place when he heard what we were planning.” Baekhyun’s hands fall back into his lap.  
  
“That still leaves the task of bringing Yixing out there.”  
  
Hearing Yixing’s name sparks a wicked grin on Baekhyun’s face. “Well, then that means someone, not Chanyeol, should make sure he gets there.”  
  
Jongdae’s stomach plummets. “Why not Chanyeol?”  
  
“If it’s just Chanyeol and Yixing and Junmyeon, there’s less incentive for them to go out.”  
  
“But if it’s, say, Sehun, Junmyeon and Chanyeol waiting for him,” Jongdae cuts in, “there’s more.”  
  
Baekhyun leans back on his hands over the short distance the toilet seat allows. “Or you.”  
  
“Or Juhyun,” Jongdae says. “Or Kyungsoo.”  
  
“Or,” Baekhyun drags out the word, rolling out his neck as he does, “you.”  
  
“Jongin? Seohyun?”  
  
Baekhyun taps one finger to his mouth in mock thought. “How about you, Jongdae? What’s the problem?” The wicked grin returns. “I thought you guys were just friends.”  
  
“And we are.”  
  
“Then you should have no objections.” Baekhyun waves his hand with an air of finality. “Think of it this way, you’ll be ending the suffering.”  
  
Jongdae huffs in frustration. “I don’t want him to be suffering.”  
  
Baekhyun laughs outright at that. “Then you shouldn’t have fucked him on your birthday.”  
  
“Dammit, Baekhyun, I’m not that bad!”  
  
He shakes his head. “That’s not what I meant.”  
  
“Then can we please not talk about it?” Jongdae asks. He uncrosses and recrosses his arms tighter.  
  
Baekhyun leers. “Which part? You and Yixing fucking, or you bringing Yixing to his own birthday party?”  
  
Seeing his chance to change topics, Jongdae grabs ahold of it with all his might. “So if I bring him to the ambush—”  
  
“Surprise party.”  
  
“—what then? I don’t have a reason to have keys to Junmyeon’s place.” Jongdae shrugs. “It doesn’t make sense. He’ll know something’s up.”  
  
Baekhyun clucks his tongue. “That’s an easy fix. You’ll knock, and Junmyeon’ll yell ‘It’s open!’ or something, and then you guys will walk in.”  
  
That aspect of the plan seems solid enough. Jongdae changes his approach. “So let’s say that all works. Someone—”  
  
“You.”  
  
“—gets him to the party,” Jongdae plows on. “He’s surprised and happy and everything’s great. We all have food and cake and drinks. Are we still all going out dancing? What if he doesn’t want to go?”  
  
But Baekhyun is unconvinced. “He’ll want to go. It’s been so long since we’ve all gone out together,” he says. “You know he’ll be pleased to be the reason for it.” Jongdae frowns as he considers it, unwilling to let Baekhyun think he’s won even for a moment. “If you agree to be the one to bring him, you don’t have to lie about being busy.”  
  
“I’ll still have to cover for you guys,” Jongdae says. “I already have.”  
  
Baekhyun spreads his hands open as though the matter’s sealed. “See? You’re already the perfect candidate.” He grabs his phone. “I’ll let Chanyeol know you accepted.”  
  
With a groan, Jongdae asks. “How much time left for your hair?”  
  
“Ten minutes.”  
  
Jongdae buries his face in his hands.  
  
“What?” Baekhyun says. “We’re almost done.”  
  
“I’m going to go watch Netflix.” Jongdae stands, patting down his pockets for his phone on instinct. He stops when he realizes what he’s doing, and that he left his phone charging at his desk. “Let me know when you’re ready for the color test.”  
  
Baekhyun pauses mid-text and waves his phone. “You’ll know.”  
  
\---  
  
Kyungsoo joins Junmyeon and Jongdae for dinner after a capella rehearsal. “You know, I think we’re really getting it,” he says, taking a seat in the cafeteria.  
  
“It’s about time, honestly.” Junmyeon sits next to him, so Jongdae takes a seat on the other side of the table. “We perform the end of the month.”  
  
“How’s the poster design coming for that?” Jongdae asks. In the back of his mind he knows the leadership role for the group will fall to either him or Baekhyun, so it’s good to have a sense of how things are done. He’s not too invested, though. He still has about three-quarters of a year left until that decision comes down the line.  
  
Of course, he asks his question just as Junmyeon takes a bite of dinner. While they wait for him to finish chewing, Kyungsoo says, “I mean, we’re doing pretty well for having lost some strong seniors last year. The first-year class are really stepping up.”  
  
“Not quick enough,” Junmyeon says. He takes a drink to clear his throat. “Anyway, Seohyun’s got some great ideas. She’s volunteered to do most of the design work, but I told her she could use my color printer.”  
  
Jongdae nods. “It’ll be good to have them printed in color this year. Draw a bigger crowd.”  
  
“Seohyun’s got an eye for design,” Kyungsoo says. “I trust her more than you, Junmyeon.”  
  
Mouth full again, Junmyeon just shrugs by way of answer.  
  
“Sorry but I have to agree with Kyungsoo on this one.” Jongdae tilts his head toward Kyungsoo, who nods back. “You’re good at a lot of things, but marketing and design? Not your strongest points.”  
  
“Next year, you’ll have Ailee to work with.” Junmyeon looks to Jongdae as he says it. “I admit, I am not too familiar with her Photoshop skill.”  
  
“Their Photoshop skill,” Kyungsoo corrects.  
  
“Whoops, shit. Their.” Junmyeon grimaces. “I keep doing that. Thanks.” Kyungsoo takes a big bite of dinner. “Anyway, with Seohyun’s help, the auditorium should be more than just us and our friends in the music department who need to get a performance attendance credit.”  
  
Jongdae knows Junmyeon means more than just one specific friend, but it’s hard imagining anyone else.  
  
“Yeah,” Kyungsoo pauses to chew. “Though I think if Chanyeol skipped, Baekhyun would fly out of the auditorium and drag him to a front row seat.”  
  
Trying to snap himself out of it, Jongdae shakes his head. Imagining Baekhyun literally flying out of the auditorium as a harpy creature and carrying Chanyeol through the air by the seat of his pants helps. He snickers into his next bite.  
  
“Nah, I don’t think he’d try to skip. He’ll probably be the first one in the door.” Junmyeon laughs. “Though Yixing might accidentally nap through it if Chanyeol isn’t there to wake him up.”  
  
Kyungsoo’s eyes slide to Jongdae. “Maybe.” His attention shifts back to Junmyeon, and Jongdae relaxes a little. “Now that you mention it, do you need any help setting up tomorrow night?”  
  
Junmyeon shakes his head. “Not really, everything’s pretty much covered, but you’re always welcome to come over early and lend a hand moving furniture.” He gestures to Jongdae with an open palm. “Jongdae’s already been volunteered to bring Yixing over.”  
  
“Oh, really?”  
  
Quick to defend himself, Jongdae says, “Baekhyun made me do it.” When Kyungsoo laughs at him, Junmyeon looks on with amusement. “What? It’s true.”  
  
Between laughs, Kyungsoo says, “No, no, I know. It’s just funny to me, that’s all.” Jongdae wonders how much, if anything, they suspect. Asking would be just as good as admitting. “You’re sure you’re all set, Junmyeon? I think my roommate has some decorations lying around our dorm we’re not using.”  
  
“Maybe,” Junmyeon says with shrug.  
  
The rest of dinner passes without further incident, and walking outside, Jongdae’s phone buzzes with a text message from Yixing.  
  
yixing [08:36PM]:  
Hey are you at the library?  
  
jongdae [08:36PM]:  
No. Why?  
  
yixing [08:37PM]:  
I’m on my way there now. Wanna meet? This time, the coffees are on me  
  
Jongdae stops walking, grinning down at the screen. He was planning on doing some work back at his dorm, but truth be told, he’s more likely to focus in the library. That Yixing will be there, with hot coffee just for Jongdae, is irrelevant. Good friends care for each other in small, practical ways, and Yixing just happens to be kind like that.  
  
jongdae [08:38PM]:  
Sounds great! I’m nearby, so I’ll be there soon  
  
He changes direction and locks his phone, only for it to buzz a few moments later.  
  
yixing [08:40PM]:  
Ok! I might be a bit late. There’s a long line  
  
jongdae [08:41PM]:  
That’s ok. I’ll wait for you


	10. October - Yixing’s Birthday

The elevator ride to Junmyeon’s floor is the last in a painful stretch of time where Jongdae must witness first-hand Yixing’s barely-contained disappointment. The doors close after they step in and, listless, Yixing presses the button.  
  
“Do you think more people will be free tomorrow?” Yixing asks. He leans back against the elevator wall, his sweatshirt contrasting against its drab finish. “For a birthday party?”  
  
Settling beside him, Jongdae bumps Yixing’s shoulder with his own. He slips his hands into his jeans’ pockets to prevent them from giving into the itch to hold one of Yixing’s. “On Saturday? It’s possible,” he says. “Maybe something later, like dinner, if you want.”  
  
Yixing’s gaze stays trained on the floor of the car. “Yeah, maybe.” His voice is hollow. Jongdae bumps his shoulder again, and this time, Yixing bumps back. “I’m glad you’re here though. And it’ll be nice, I guess, a quiet birthday with, uh,” he pauses to count the attendees, “four of us.” He unloads a heavy sigh. “Four.” Dejection emanates from Yixing in a thick, unbearable contaminant that turns Jongdae’s bones to lead. Jongdae hopes the surprise is enough to pull Yixing out of it.  
  
“Hey,” Jongdae says, bumping against Yixing and staying there, pressed against him. “Did you have a good day, though?”  
  
A smile flickers on Yixing’s face like a candle struggling to light itself in harsh wind. “I guess,” he says.  
  
“You guess?” Jongdae asks. “What’s that mean.”  
  
“Did you know if you tell the cashier at the coffee shop it’s your birthday, they’ll give you a free latte?”  
  
Jongdae laughs. “You’re kidding.”  
  
“Nope.” Yixing’s smile is a ghost of itself. “One casual conversation and an ID check later, and boom. Free coffee.”  
  
The elevator comes to a smooth stop. When the doors open, Jongdae is the first one out. “Come on,” he says. He offers his best attempt at a hopeful smile. “Let’s eat some cake. Drink some beer. People can always show up later, too.”  
  
Despite Jongdae standing in their way, the doors try to shut. He stumbles to keep them open, spreading his arms out, and Yixing steps forward to stick his hands in their way, too. “Okay,” he says, the doors retracting again. Yixing steps through them, following Jongdae, and somewhere in the jumble, their hands laced together.  
  
“Okay. Let’s go.” Jongdae leads Yixing down the hall by the hand. It feels right. Holding hands and walking and talking. “I hope they’ve already ordered the food.” Plus, it would be awkward to suddenly stop. What if Yixing doesn’t let go? Then Jongdae will feel like twice the horrible friend. Safer, really, just to stay holding hands. For now.  
  
“Order food?” Yixing asks. “I thought we were going to cook.”  
  
Yixing’s palms are warm while his fingers feel cool. Jongdae hopes his own aren’t sweaty or clammy. “Oh?” Jongdae’s mind reels. “Uh, yeah, maybe. I don’t remember.” They stop in front of Junmyeon’s door, dropping each other’s hands. Jongdae knocks.  
  
As promised, Junmyeon’s reply comes muffled from inside. “It’s open!”  
  
“Ready?” asks Jongdae.  
  
“For what?” Yixing asks, but Jongdae’s already opening the door. The lights are off, something Jongdae wasn’t expecting. “It’s dark?”  
  
Jongdae flips the switch by the door.  
  
“Surprise!” Illuminated by the light, Jongdae scans over the crowd, taking quick inventory of their mutual friends, people he recognizes, and people he doesn’t know at all. They’re decked in variations of celebratory gear, most with cone-shaped hats with brightly colored pom-poms, some blowing on party horns. Behind them hangs a happy birthday letter banner, each end of the string taped to the wall. “Happy birthday!”  
  
Despite the blast of happy colors and sounds, his eyes settle on Yixing with a broad grin. Agape with shock, Yixing’s head swivels as his eyes track each face. His mouth lifts and he’s smiling, his eyes bright and blinking back tears. “You guys did this for me?” he asks, overjoyed. For a fleeting moment, Yixing looks at him with such incredulity and pleasure that Jongdae can't help but feel vindicated.  
  
Chanyeol steps forward. “Happy birthday, Yixing.” They hug, and Jongdae finally closes the door.  
  
“I thought everyone didn’t care,” Yixing says, watery and muffled from his spot in his friend’s embrace.  
  
“Of course we care,” says Baekhyun. The other attendees break apart from the initial cluster, mingling around the room. All the furniture has been pushed to the sides, leaving a wide open space for everyone to gather. Against the back wall, the collapsible pong table has a new home beneath the birthday banner. Instead of red plastic cups, paper plates and bowls of snacks sit atop it for guests to help themselves.  
  
Though he wants to stick by Yixing, the idea makes him feel clingy for the wrong reasons. Jongdae decides to walk around, to seek out pizza his nose hasn’t detected. In his search, he finds dining table clear, good beer in the fridge, and red cups on the kitchen counter. He also stumbles across two guests in the kitchen, a dark-haired girl Jongdae could swear he met before talking to one of the jazz band members whose name he can’t remember. Jongdae excuses himself to check the oven for hidden pizza, with no luck. He does find the birthday cake, Yixing’s name written in violet icing, and shuts the oven door before anyone else notices.  
  
Next stop, the balcony. It’s occupied, and there probably wouldn’t be pizza out there anyway.  
  
Jongdae’s definitely not going in Junmyeon’s room again, and if the pizzas are in the bathroom, he’ll pass on that search.  
  
He catches Chanyeol by the arm on his way to the snack table. “Hey, did you guys order the pizzas?”  
  
Chanyeol’s eyes go wide. “Oh, whoops. Shit.” Jongdae drags him to one corner, and one quick trip through the local pizzeria app later, they’ve got an order on the way.  
  
“I can’t believe you guys forgot the food.”  
  
“Not all of it!” Chanyeol waves his hand at the snack table. “Just the heavier stuff.” He rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. “Thanks, Jongdae.”  
  
Jongdae shakes his head. “Thank you for organizing this.” He looks around the room for Yixing, finding him across the party and laughing with Jongin at something Sehun’s saying. “He was really shocked.”  
  
“He’s happy now, though,” says Chanyeol, “so I’m happy.” They watch Sehun laugh at his own joke. Yixing turns around, looking for whoever is watching him. When he spots them, he smiles, and Jongdae returns it on instinct. “Oh!” Chanyeol turns his gaze from his roommate. “That reminds me. He said yes to going out, so we’ll leave about an hour after everyone’s finished eating.”  
  
“Is that code for ‘pregame’s starting’?” Jongdae asks.  
  
Flashing a grin, Chanyeol says, “Go hard.”  
  
The party evolves from there. People start taking off their party hats and leaving their party horns in odd places, like on top of the fridge or in Junmyeon’s dry bathtub. Someone, Jongdae suspects Amber, gets music playing through Junmyeon’s speakers. Between mingling with people and mixing drinks, Jongdae loses track of the forty minutes between placing the order and Junmyeon leaving to collect the pizzas from downstairs. He and Chanyeol picked the right amount, enough for everyone to have at least two slices if they wanted. Chanyeol nearly eats three-quarters of a pizza himself before Baekhyun swoops in under his arm to remind him of post-dancing McDonald’s, and all Jongdae can do is laugh as he lowers his last slice back to his plate.  
  
“I’ll take that,” Yixing says, appearing on Chanyeol’s other side to take the half-eaten piece for himself.  
  
Baekhyun laughs. “Don’t eat too much or you won’t be able to dance later.”  
  
“Yeah, about that,” Yixing says, chewing. “I dressed for dinner, not to go out.”  
  
The look Baekhyun gives Jongdae sends dread coursing through Jongdae’s veins. “Don’t worry, I figured you and Jongdae are about the same height, so I brought along some options.”  
  
“Oh! Thank you!” Yixing catches Jongdae trying to express in a single, silent look to Baekhyun that he knows what Baekhyun’s trying to do, and he’s not pleased. “Is that okay?” He’s misinterpreted the expression on Jongdae’s face. “I’ll wash whatever I borrow before I return it to you.”  
  
“No, yeah, that’s fine,” Jongdae says. “Don’t worry about it.”  
  
Yixing dimples at him, and Jongdae’s resolve to get back at Baekhyun crumbles momentarily. “Well, now that’s settled, let’s pick something, shall we?” Baekhyun asks, slipping away from Chanyeol’s side and hooking one arm with Yixing. He leads Yixing away, and Jongdae tries not to worry.  
  
He looks back to find Chanyeol watching him. “I thought you knew?”  
  
Jongdae shakes his head and shrugs. “It’s fine, though, whatever.” He watches the door to Junmyeon’s room close before turning his focus back to Chanyeol. “Pregame, right? Where’s your drink?”  
  
“I finished it.”  
  
“So let’s get another!” They wind their way into the kitchen as Sehun is stirring a pitcher of another one of his mixed drinks. The mix goes in cups, the cups find mouths. It burns going down, despite the sweetness of lemon-lime soda and Sehun’s favorite granulated pink lemonade mix. “Shit,” Jongdae says. “I should have stuck to beer.”  
  
Sehun raises his cup, waiting for Chanyeol to tap it in a toast. “It’s gotta be strong to last us through the night,” he says.  
  
“Hey, I’ll drink to that,” Chanyeol says, tapping their cups together. They knock back a swig. Sehun’s face remains impassive, while Chanyeol is clearly more affected by the bitterness of the alcohol. “Another toast!” He raises his cup again. “To Yixing!”  
  
“To Yixing!” Sehun raises his cup.  
  
Jongdae joins them this time. “To Yixing!” They drink. It’s just as strong as the first glug. Jongdae wants to ask what, exactly, Sehun put in it. There’s a few bottles of liquor on the counter next to the pitcher. He suspects there’s a sample from each one in Sehun’s punch. “My turn. Let’s drink to birthdays.”  
  
“To birthdays!” Chanyeol and Sehun chorus before drinking. The game takes hold, and they toast to pizza, to being single, to getting laid, to the Tazmanian Devil, to music.  
  
They gather a bit of a crowd. Juhyun and a freshman from jazz band, Seungwan, join them first. Amber and Ailee make their way into the kitchen soon after, sharing a drink beside the fridge. Kyungsoo appears halfway through the first round, laughing with Jongdae when Sunyoung reacts to her first sip of Sehun’s concoction.  
  
When Jongdae finishes his drink, he politely declines another cup of the stuff, mixing vodka with the lemon-lime in his own proportions. His head’s spinning already, setting his coordination off enough he spills a bit of the soda.  
  
A paper towel dabs at the spill before Jongdae can react. He recognizes those pretty hands.  
  
“Making a mess?” teases Yixing, sticking close after throwing the paper towel away. Baekhyun’s done something to his hair, styling it away from his face, and lined his eyes with a hint of smokey liner. They picked out, or maybe Baekhyun picked out, a button-down the color of old lavender and dark jeans. They’re looser on Yixing than on Jongdae and hit a little high on his ankle. It’s okay though. Dark socks mask the discrepancy, and when they’re dancing, nobody will be able to notice anyway. He looks good. He usually does. Jongdae wants to touch him in front of everyone, his cheeks and his jaw, his shoulders, smoothing down his chest. His trim waist and hips. Simply being around Yixing, the sight of him in Jongdae’s clothes, the warmth of his smile…it’s intoxicating like a cinnamon-flavored liquor he could keep drinking until he’s too drunk to see straight.  
  
Instead, Jongdae sucks in a breath and chuckles. “It’s more fun that way.”  
  
Yixing laughs with him, nudging an empty cup into his palms. “Then make me a drink, and you know I don’t like my whisky neat.” He’s looking at Jongdae like Jongdae is the one made of Goldschläger, and Yixing’s ready to drink the whole bottle.  
  
Distantly, it occurs to Jongdae that friends don’t look at each other like that, but he’s already uncapping the vodka and mixing Yixing something good. “One drink,” he says, “messy.”  
  
Accepting it, Yixing leans in to make himself heard over the loud laughter from the group beside them. “Thanks.” His voice is warm. His breath. Yixing slings an arm around Jongdae’s shoulders and takes a sip. “It’s good.”  
  
“Yixing, your turn!” says Sehun. “Toast, birthday boy, toast!”  
  
The room trickles to quiet as everyone turns to him, anticipating Yixing’s toast. “Hmm,” he says. He raises his cup. “To friends. Through thick and thin.”  
  
Everyone follows his lead. “To friends!”  
  
Jongdae drinks, but the alcohol’s warmth pales in comparison to the heat from Yixing’s body.  
  
“Wait, wait, wait,” says Chanyeol, stumbling into the kitchen and pointing an accusatory finger at Yixing. Jongdae doesn’t remember when he left. “I have to do a birthday shot with you here since I can’t when we’re out.” Baekhyun follows, quick on his heels.  
  
“I have a whole apartment, and everyone ends up in my kitchen,” says Junmyeon, arms crossed as he leans in the doorway. Some of the other guests Jongdae recognizes from jazz band peer in around him. “You realize I have a couch? For sitting?” Nobody moves, except for Chanyeol, who is opening and closing Junmyeon’s cabinets in a desperate search for shot glasses. “It’s a nice couch.”  
  
Sehun raises his eyebrows at him. “For sitting.”  
  
Junmyeon flushes, though he’s already pretty red from the beer in his hand. “You know what I mean.” Jongdae doesn’t know what just happened, and isn’t sure he wants to.  
  
“Okay,” Chanyeol announces, commanding everyone’s attention. He holds two precariously full shot glasses, yet manages not to spill over the liquor inside. Yixing takes the one offered to him. It’s strong enough Jongdae can smell it from his spot beside Yixing.  
  
“What’s in it?” Yixing asks.  
  
Chanyeol turns around, pointing at each bottle on the counter as he names them. “Uh, the birthday cake vodka, the hazelnut one—sorry, Junmyeon, I found that in your cabinets—and a splash of 151 proof.”  
  
“151? Do you wanna die?” Kyungsoo asks. “Yixing, don’t drink that unless you wanna die.”  
  
Yixing sniffs the shot, recoils, then laughs at himself. “I’ve lived a good life.” He raises his glass. “Bottoms up.”  
  
“Bottoms up,” Chanyeol says, knocking it back. He coughs near the end, setting the glass on the counter and pounding his fist to his chest. “Aw, shit man. That’s a shot.”  
  
Meanwhile, Yixing’s eyes squeeze shut as he exaggerates a shudder. “Yeah, I guess that kind of tastes like birthday cake.”  
  
“To birthday shots,” toasts Baekhyun, and everyone still playing the game joins him in a drink, Jongdae included.  
  
Chanyeol leans in. “You want another?” he asks, voice a stage whisper. Yixing's bottom lip juts out, and he tilts his head as he considers the option. “Or, maybe not.” Chanyeol picks up the bottle of hazelnut liqueur, weighing it with his hand. “I think I used the last of this.” He sets it back down, looking at Yixing, then Jongdae, and back to Yixing. “Don’t tell Junmyeon, because I can’t buy him another.”  
  
Eventually, Junmyeon gets his wish, and the party in the kitchen breaks up as people spend more time in bigger rooms. Yixing goes with the crowd, but Jongdae stays put, nursing the last of his drink and considering switching to water for a round.  
  
He moves aside to let Amber and Ailee grab an extra cup and fill both with water, checking his phone for the time. It’s not late, but they should get going.  
  
Winding through the party, he’s happy to note the choral groups and the jazz band have mixed a bit more. Seohyun and Junmyeon have wedged themselves amongst a group of them, which is a good start. He hopes they get a chance to socialize more. It’ll be nice to expand their friend group, meet new people, open up a larger dating pool. His eyes betray him, seeking out Yixing and finding him next to Sehun, in conversation with Jongin and Soojung. Jongin keeps sending them pointed looks, which Sehun is willfully ignoring. Jongdae has to laugh.  
  
“You’re staring.” Baekhyun, it seems to Jongdae, has been hiding the ability to appear out of nowhere for the last three years.  
  
“No, I’m not,” he says, looking at his roommate. “We should leave soon.”  
  
“Oh, really?” Baekhyun checks his phone for the time. “Yeah, you’re right.” He clears his throat before announcing to the party, “One more round, and then we go!”  
  
When they do leave, most of the older people pile into the three big cars ordered through a taxi app. He takes the last one, squished on one end of the back seat beside Junmyeon and Seohyun. Baekhyun sits in one of the bucket seats in the middle of the vehicle, a tuft of plum hair visible over the top of the seat before all the doors close and the interior lights shut off.  
  
The ride to the dance club is a blur. They unload in front of the place, the two other carloads of friends waiting for them outside. As the line moves quick, Jongdae realizes the shots from pregame are hitting him. Everything is so damn _funny_.  
  
“It’s his motherfuckin’ birthday,” Baekhyun sings at the bouncer when she checks Yixing’s ID.  
  
“I can see that.” She marks Yixing’s hand with a red stamp, along with anyone else of legal drinking age. Chanyeol and Kyungsoo, along with their other underage friends, get a big black cross.  
  
Inside, the first floor of the club is already packed with people dancing or standing around the tables that dot the edge of the dance floor. The throbbing bass has an immediate effect on Jongdae, head bobbing to the beat. His friends tell him he’s not a good dancer, but what do they know? People dance with him. Sometimes they hook up, most times they don’t. Either way, he has a great time. That’s all that really matters anyway.  
  
After a bit of jostling, they find a spot on the floor, joining in the semi-cohesive congregation of dancers. The first few songs are difficult, trying to find a rhythm, staking out a spot where he doesn’t accidentally step on the edge of someone’s foot or bump into them. He catches on, body moving in time to the DJ’s beat and letting the tunes carry him away.  
  
Nobody dances with him that first round, and that’s fine. He starts to feel sweat beading between his shoulderblades when Baekhyun taps him on the arm. “Drink?” he yells over the music, Chanyeol miming behind him to make his meaning known. Jongdae nods, dancing through the crowd on their way to the wall-long first floor bar. At the far end they have a big water cooler with cone-shaped plastic cups, which is a nice consideration. Chanyeol helps himself while Baekhyun and Jongdae flag down a bartender. Jongdae can’t hear what Baekhyun orders, but he shows the bartender his cross-free hand all the same. His buzz from before is fading, though Chanyeol seems to be just fine. He’s got one possessive hand on Baekhyun’s shoulder, the other refilling his cup and spilling water into the trash bin below.  
  
The bartender sets two highball glasses on the bar, and Baekhyun hands over his credit card. He passes one of the drinks to Jongdae. It’s strong for a bought drink. The three of them cluster around one of the standing tables until Jongdae and Baekhyun finish, setting the glasses back on the bar.  
  
On the dance floor, it takes Jongdae less time to feel like he’s got the rhythm back. Juhyun’s started dancing with one of the jazz trombone players, pressed back against him and holding her long hair to one side. Moving to the beat, Jongdae watches him grab that wrist and guide her hand back to her waist. He smoothes his hand over hers. She twines their fingers together, pulling both his hands to rest on her hips. When she lets go of his hands, he keeps them there.  
  
He searches for the others. Jongin’s begun to make his move, dancing much closer to Soojung than before. Either Soojung hasn’t realized it or she doesn’t care. Either way, it makes Jongdae stop dancing and laugh for a moment.  
  
Sehun’s dancing close by with a girl Jongdae’s never seen before, face buried against her neck. Junmyeon keeps glancing over, so Jongdae moves in to distract him.  
  
“I’m not jealous,” Junmyeon says over the music.  
  
Jongdae makes an exaggerated shrug, dancing in front of him, along with him. “I never said you were.”  
  
From his new vantage point, Jongdae looks around, finding Baekhyun and Chanyeol a few steps away. Kyungsoo’s dancing nearby too. Jongdae catches him politely decline a dance with a stranger. It’s common behavior for Kyungsoo on the nights when they all go out dancing, though Jongdae can’t figure out what’s wrong with this person. They seem nice enough. Nonetheless, Kyungsoo takes a step toward Yixing who dances closer to him like an alibi.  
  
When the song changes, Junmyeon moves past Jongdae. Jongdae turns to watch him approach Sehun, still dancing with the woman. Not his problem, he reminds himself, and slips through a space between bodies to find Kyungsoo and Yixing.  
  
They make space for him, riding the beat of a few more songs together. He loses track of time, feeling like he’s sweating out the alcohol. Midway through one of the songs, Yixing says something that Jongdae can’t quite catch and makes Kyungsoo smile. “What?” he asks, shouting over the blaring electronic remix of a popular new song. “What’s up?” Yixing grins and shakes his head. “You want a drink?”  
  
“Not yet,” Yixing shouts back, just as Kyungsoo says, “Sure.”  
  
Yixing stiffens for a moment, movement becoming awkward. “We’ll be back soon,” Jongdae says. “I think Sehun and Junmyeon are over there.” He points in the direction he last saw them, though he has trouble distinguishing them now through the flashing lights and dancing bodies. Yixing laughs, back to normal, and slips through the crowd.  
  
There’s no time for him to dwell on what just happened as Kyungsoo tugs him along, picking up Chanyeol and Baekhyun along the way. At the bar, Baekhyun orders for them again, but this time, Chanyeol foregoes water in favor of sticking close behind him. Jongdae stays back, and he and Kyungsoo claim a standing table once it clears. This time he has to race to the table to block out another group from taking it, making Kyungsoo laugh.  
  
“You gotta be aggressive sometimes,” Jongdae says. The song changes. “Hey, I saw someone offer to dance with you earlier, but you said no. You do that a lot. What’s up with that?”  
  
Kyungsoo shrugs. “I like dancing. Just not with other people.”  
  
“But you could go home with those people,” Jongdae says, looking out into the crowd. He gestures with his arm to the length of the dance floor.  
  
“No, thanks.” Kyungsoo holds up an open palm. “I like going out with you guys because it’s fun, and it’s hilarious watching you guys try to pick up people.” Jongdae stares at him. “I’m not interested in dating or hooking up.”  
  
Cocking his head to one side, Jongdae asks, “Like, with random people? Or just in college?”  
  
“Like, at all.”  
  
“Oh,” Jongdae says. “Nice to know you come out for our company, and not to ditch us.” He grins, nodding once. “Cool.”  
  
“Don’t get the wrong idea,” Kyungsoo says, laughing again. “I’m gonna grab water.”  
  
He leaves as Baekhyun and Chanyeol arrive, Chanyeol peeling off to follow Kyungsoo to the water cooler. “We should probably get water too,” Baekhyun says, setting the drinks down on the table.  
  
Jongdae grabs the closest one. “Thanks,” he says, and takes a drink. This time, he can tell it’s something mixed with lemon-lime soda. Probably vodka, though it could be tequila. Jongdae wouldn’t put it past his roommate to try something like that. “How you feeling?”  
  
“Kinda drunk, but not drunk enough,” says Baekhyun. He sips through the short red mixer straw. “Chanyeol’s still good with that 151 from pregame.”  
  
“Shit, I believe it. That stuff’s no joke,” Jongdae says. Baekhyun blows a few bubbles into his drink. “Stop that.” Jongdae smacks his arm, and Baekhyun takes another sip. “We’re in public.”  
  
Baekhyun giggles. “I’m mixing.”  
  
“How are you more drunk than me?”  
  
Kyungsoo and Chanyeol return, Kyungsoo still bearing his water. “And on Yixing’s birthday, too.” Baekhyun moves aside to let Chanyeol share his personal space. “Hey, can you go get me water?”  
  
Chanyeol nods. “Sure, be right back.” He disappears into the crowd, too far away to hear Jongdae call after him for his own cup.  
  
“Just get it after you finish,” Kyungsoo says.  
  
Jongdae pouts into his drink, and mimicking Baekhyun, blows bubbles into his water. It doesn’t last long until he’s laughing again. He knocks back another sip. “You know, I think Yixing is having fun,” he says. “You guys were right about the surprise party.”  
  
“Of course we’re right,” Baekhyun says. He and Kyungsoo share a look. Behind them, Jongdae watches Seohyun, Juhyun, and her jazz guy step up to the bar for drinks. Jongdae’s attention shifts back to Baekhyun to catch him ask, “Have you danced with him yet?”  
  
“What?”  
  
Kyungsoo and Baekhyun share another look. Jongdae wants in or wants them to stop, but his mouth is full with more drink. “Even I danced with him,” says Kyungsoo.  
  
“He can dance with whoever he wants,” Jongdae says. It sounds jealous, which is weird, because he’s definitely not jealous. It’s probably the alcohol, the club, the conspiracy between his friends they’ll flaunt but won’t include him in. “What does it matter anyway?”  
  
“What?” Chanyeol’s back, bearing two cones of water. He hands one to Baekhyun, and to Jongdae’s surprise, one to him. “What are we talking about?”  
  
Baekhyun grins, finding his place with one arm around Chanyeol’s waist. “How good of an idea this surprise party was.” He drains about half of the water in one go.  
  
When Baekhyun hands him the cone without a word, Chanyeol holds it for him. “Yeah, I’m glad it worked out!” Chanyeol puts his free arm around Baekhyun’s shoulders as Baekhyun picks his drink up from the table. The unspoken way they communicate, sweet and intuitive, Jongdae wonders if they had a chance to have Baekhyun’s talk. Had they always been this way? “It wouldn’t have worked without everyone’s help.”  
  
His drink is almost gone, so Jongdae downs the water. “Ready to go back out there?” he asks, looking around at his friends’ finished or almost-finished drinks.  
  
When they’re ready, they put empty glasses on the bar and toss the crumpled paper cones into the trash on their way back on the dance floor. The club has gotten more packed since they stepped off the floor, and Jongdae’s pretty sure there was a change in DJ. The air is thick and humid, with more bassline, more bodies. Jongdae loses himself to the beat. He dances with someone he doesn’t know for a few songs this time, too drunk to mind they aren’t his type. Baekhyun and Chanyeol grind nearby, and Kyungsoo declines another partner.  
  
Things become visible in flashes of neon light. The DJ at the booth bobs their head as they mix the music. A group of dancers clears an area at the far end of this dance floor, limbs popping and swinging in time. Someone laughs with a circle of friends. Lips trailing along someone’s neck. Hands in the air, ticking with each bass hit. Hands on his waist, a new dancer fitting their hips together for a few songs.  
  
He might be kind of drunk, sure, but the club feels alive in shadows and neon, the tight press of people under the same frenzied spell, moving in wavelike tandem to a musical heartbeat.  
  
Through the movement, there’s one thing constant. Yixing’s eyes locked on Jongdae, boring through anyone who might move in their way. When Jongdae finds him, he’s caught in their pull, watching Yixing watch him over the shoulder of the man Jongdae’s dancing with. Yixing isn’t without partner either, sandwiched between someone at his front and Sehun at his back. Sehun, one arm around Yixing, grinding against him, head tucked against his shoulder. Yixing tilts his head back as though reacting to something Sehun’s done. Or it could be the person dancing in front of him, trailing one hand down his chest. Where Jongdae should be.  
  
And despite that attention, Yixing’s looking at Jongdae as if they aren’t separated by ten feet of orgiastic dancing, and Jongdae can’t breathe.  
  
Breaking the stare fractures the moment, and the room expands to normal size. “Thanks,” he says, pushing away his dance partner, who hesitates before stepping back into the crowd. To his friends, he gets their attention before shouting, “Bathroom,” and slipping away.  
  
The long, unisex restroom is less packed than he expected, though he is by no means alone. With the door closed, it reduces the noise to a dull pulse. Jongdae foregoes a stall in favor of real estate in front of the mirror, where he takes a long look at himself. Is he pretending? Is Yixing? He needs more water. Too bad the drinkable stuff is across a dance floor he doesn’t want to barrel through.  
  
His thoughts scatter like a flock of sheep struck by lightning. What the fuck was that look about? Out there. Every time the door swings open, Jongdae holds his breath. Maybe he’s imagining things. He wants to go home with Yixing. No, it was just a look. In the past month, they’ve done far more intimate things than just stare.  
  
It wasn’t just a look.  
  
“Jongdae.”  
  
He looks up from the dirty floor. When did he look away? Yixing’s there, coming closer in the harsh light of the bathroom. The door swings open, people leave, people enter. Baekhyun’s eyeliner is a bit smudged at the outer corners of his eyes.  
  
Jongdae swallows and turns around. “Hey.” He’s sweating. They both are.  
  
Yixing stops short of their feet touching. “It’s my birthday.”  
  
Closing the space between them is a bad idea. Jongdae might do something foolish, like fist his hands in that button-down and kiss him. “I know.” He leans forward without taking another step or toppling over.  
  
People are washing their hands not two feet from where they’re standing. Jongdae and Yixing gaze at each other.  
  
“It’s been fun,” Yixing says. He doesn’t move forward. Jongdae doesn’t pull him.  
  
He paces his inhale, an attempt to control his breathing in the face of his racing heartbeat. “Been is past tense.” Jongdae smiles, weak at first but growing in bravado the longer he bears it. “Are you not having fun anymore?” When Yixing doesn’t say anything, Jongdae steps around him. “You’ll probably have more fun outside, dancing, you know.” He opens the door, the wall of sound hitting him in the face. “See? Fun.”  
  
Yixing’s hand finds his shoulder. The bathroom door shuts behind them. He leans in, pitching his voice over the music. “Come home with me.” Lips brush against Jongdae’s neck.  
  
“It’s your birthday.” Jongdae wants to say yes. “They’ll look for you.”  
  
“So? They’ll assume I went home with someone.” A firmer planting of lips on Jongdae’s neck sends a tingle of electricity down his spine. “They’ll be right.” He pulls back, puzzled. Jongdae congratulates himself on being able to look straight at him. “Is that your only objection, or—?”  
  
“I’m not objecting,” Jongdae says, maybe too fast. He resists looking at Yixing’s mouth. Not here, where anyone could see. “You’re sure you wanna leave now?”  
  
Yixing nods, hand dropping from Jongdae’s shoulder to tangle with his. “Let’s go.”  
  
They carve a path outside, past the end of the dance floor, past the booths, the stairs to the other levels, past the chained-off area for smokers, past the bouncer and the line to get in. In the cool October night air, they flag down a taxi, climbing inside and over each other. Yixing gives the address to his dorm. The door shuts and the car speeds forward. The ride back should sober him up, he thinks.  
  
But for the time being, he and Yixing are, effectively, alone.  
  
The silence between them, masked by the chatter of the taxi driver’s radio, stretches on too long. It’s Jongdae who leans in first, fingers along Yixing’s jaw turning his face toward him, and closing the distance between them. Yixing’s mouth opens for him, exchanging slick and fast kisses. One hand rests on Jongdae’s waist, and when the taxi bumps in the road, Jongdae uses it as an excuse to straddle Yixing’s legs. They resettle, Jongdae wrapping his arms around Yixing’s shoulders, Yixing groping his ass.  
  
Jongdae sighs into his mouth and presses his teeth into Yixing’s lower lip. He loves the way it feels, the low groan that rumbles in Yixing’s chest when he does it. Jongdae shifts his weight, tilting forward. Yixing encourages him, wrapping his arms around his waist and keeping Jongdae close. His breath is warm and tongue curious in Jongdae’s mouth, if a bit clumsy from the alcohol.  
  
Fuck all if Jongdae cares, though, because kissing Yixing in any state is far superior to not kissing Yixing at all.  
  
One hand spreads up Jongdae’s back, encouraging him up on his knees. Yixing’s mouth finds a spot under Jongdae’s jaw and begins to suck. Stifling a moan, Jongdae winds his fingers in Yixing’s hair, the other hand scratching across his shoulders. He rocks his hips forward, once.  
  
The taxi jolts to a stop. Jongdae looks outside, blinking through hazy eyes. “This okay?” asks the driver. They’re outside the front of Yixing’s dorm.  
  
“Yeah,” Jongdae says, sliding off Yixing back on the seat. He pulls out his wallet from his pocket, holding it out of reach when Yixing tries to swipe it. “No, I’m paying. Get out.” Jongdae hands the driver the fare, plus a generous tip, and climbs out after Yixing. “Thank you,” he says before shutting the door.  
  
“I could have gotten that,” Yixing says as they head inside the Grays.  
  
“Stop that,” Jongdae says. He touches the wet spot under the corner of his jaw where Yixing had his mouth. “It’s your birthday. Don’t be ridiculous.”  
  
Chanyeol and Yixing’s entire floor shares a common bathroom and kitchen area, but Jongdae isn’t here for a tour. Their dorm room is smaller than Jongdae’s, though it has essentially the same set-up. Two beds, two dressers, two desks. The beds are easy to tell apart. Chanyeol’s extra-long mattress aside, Yixing’s oversized rabbit plushie is a dead giveaway.  
  
Yixing locks the door behind them. Not wasting time, Jongdae begins unbuttoning Yixing’s shirt. Or rather, Jongdae’s shirt on Yixing’s body. Yixing frames his face in his hands and pulls him in, slipping back into the rhythm they had in the taxi. It’s a fun challenge, working to undress Yixing while his tongue curls in Jongdae’s mouth.  
  
When they break for air, Jongdae pushes forward until Yixing bumps against the door. He’s halfway through opening the shirt. They come back together, the tips of their noses brushing, not kissing. Jongdae slips the next button through the hole, and the next, and the next. He pauses and puts his palm flat against Yixing’s exposed belly. Sliding his hand up the firmness of Yixing’s torso, he rubs his thumb around one of the dark nipples. Against his lips, Yixing’s shuddering exhale. He retracts his hand, putting it back to work. Button through hole, and the shirt hangs open.  
  
Jongdae takes a half step back, surveying his work, Yixing’s body. He reaches out, pulling him forward by his belt, and unbuckles it as he steps backward. Yixing lets Jongdae pull the belt through the loops and drop it over the back of someone’s desk chair.  
  
“Better,” Jongdae says, followed by a breathy giggle as he grabs the ends of the shirt. Pulling Yixing forward, Jongdae maneuvers them to Yixing’s bed, pushing him down to sit at the edge.  
  
Yixing bounces when he sits, grabbing Jongdae by the wrist and pulling him down into his lap. Happy, Jongdae obliges. Yixing grins up at him, hands finding Jongdae’s hips. “Better.” He presses his mouth to Jongdae’s jaw again, the same spot from the taxi. Unlike the cab, Jongdae doesn’t stop himself from moaning aloud.  
  
Pushing the shirt from Yixing’s shoulders, Jongdae scoots closer. He pulls at Yixing’s hair, begs him to bite harder. When Yixing does, Jongdae scratches at the skin across Yixing’s back. “Yes, fuck,” he says. “Just like that.” He grinds his ass against the growing hardness at Yixing’s hips.  
  
“Shit,” Yixing breathes against his neck. Yixing’s hot tongue trails over his neck, nipping and sucking and kissing. It feels too good to keep quiet. “Shit, Jongdae.” He mouths another kiss at the base of Jongdae’s throat. Jongdae angles his head up, looking every bit as strung out as he sounds. Eyes hazy, cheeks flushed, lips slick.  
  
After Yixing unwinds his arms from around Jongdae, he shrugs out of the shirt, letting it fall in a crumpled arc around him. Jongdae’s hands skim over his body, his arms, his chest, and he slides from Yixing’s lap to the floor between his legs.  
  
“This looks familiar,” Yixing says, cracking a joke that makes Jongdae snort. Yixing helps Jongdae take off his pants, pulling them down his legs after a quick de-shoeing. They’re tossed aside. Yixing’s underwear follows the same route to the floor, faster than before. Leaning back on his arm, he uses his other to stroke himself. Cocking his head to one side, his eyes flick from his dick to Jongdae in unspoken question, one Jongdae plans to answer. Thoroughly.  
  
Jongdae begins by removing Yixing’s hand from himself, putting it flat against the bed. He makes himself comfortable on the floor between Yixing’s thighs, relieving a smidgen of his own tension by unzipping his own pants. Their eyes meet, and locked, Jongdae takes Yixing into his palm, into his mouth, unflinching.  
  
“Oh, fuck.” Yixing’s mouth drops open as Jongdae hollows his cheeks on the pull up, dragging the tight ring of his lips up the shaft. The heat of Yixing’s cock jumps in Jongdae’s hand, in Jongdae’s mouth.  
  
His tongue doesn’t stop moving as Jongdae sucks Yixing’s dick. Swirling down the shaft, flicking at the ridge, digging into the fat head’s slit. One hand stays fisted around Yixing’s shaft while the other cups Yixing’s balls. The tension in Yixing’s hips and thighs flexes in an exercise of self-control. Jongdae considers letting Yixing fuck his mouth as brings his mouth up to play with the tip. Yixing knows Jongdae wants to try some facefucking. Salty precum beads from the slit, lapped up by Jongdae’s waiting tongue. Maybe Yixing wants the same experience as well.  
  
He doesn’t instantly recognize the sound when he hears his ringtone go off. It’s so distant from what they’re doing, jarring like someone shaking his bones inside his body. By the second ring, an idea sprouts in his head, and to Yixing’s surprise, Jongdae stops playing with his balls to pull the phone from his pocket. He gives the tip one last lick.  
  
It’s Chanyeol. “Looks like they’ve noticed we’re missing.” he says, holding it up to show Yixing. “I’m gonna answer it.”  
  
“What?”  
  
“And I’m putting it on speaker.”  
  
Yixing covers his face with one hand. “Shit.”  
  
“Be good.” With one hand stroking Yixing’s shaft, Jongdae answers the call. On speaker, as promised. “Hello?”  
  
“Jongdae?” Chanyeol says, voice amplified for the whole room to hear. The thrum from the club sounds distant, like he’s outside. “Where are you?”  
  
“I went back to campus,” he says. Yixing’s hands find their place on the bed, keeping him propped up. “Sorry, I forgot to tell you guys.” He rubs the ridge of Yixing’s cock, grinning when Yixing pulls his bottom lip between his teeth.  
  
“Oh, okay,” Chanyeol says. Someone in the background says something. “Wait, hold on.” Chanyeol’s voice comes through, indistinct and echoey, like he’s holding the phone to his chest. Jongdae takes the chance to flutter his tongue down the underside of Yixing’s shaft, shifting his hand to the other side of Yixing’s cock. Breath hitching, Yixing shifts forward on the bed as Chanyeol’s voice comes through the speaker. “Sehun says he saw you and Yixing leave together.”  
  
Jongdae pulls his mouth away, and the pace of his hand slows. Sehun saw.  
  
They know.  
  
“We don’t know where he is, and his phone’s dead or turned off,” Chanyeol says. “We’re about to go back to Junmyeon’s for cake and stuff. Is Yixing with you? Because if he is, we’ll stop looking for him here.” Jongdae’s brow furrows.  
  
Maybe they don’t.  
  
“Uh,” Jongdae looks up at Yixing, whose very real cock he’s still stroking with his own very real hands, “no, he isn’t.”  
  
“Oh.”  
  
Grinning, Jongdae says, “Yeah, he helped me get outside because I was so drunk.” Jongdae giggles for emphasis, trying to make it extra breathy. He might have been buzzed in the taxi, but he’s much closer to stone-cold sober now. “He called me a cab. When I got in, I saw him talking to someone outside. Someone handsome with a sense of style. I could tell he was funny and nice just by looking. You know the type, real hot with a great ass.”  
  
Yixing claps a hand over his own mouth, to keep himself from laughing aloud. Jongdae latches his mouth around the head of Yixing’s cock and sucks, hard, and Yixing stifles a moan.  
  
“Are you with someone?” Chanyeol asks. “What was that?”  
  
Jongdae lifts his mouth. “Oh, uh,” he says, “the window by my bed creaks when you move it.” There’s silence from the other end. “Yeah, anyway, I’m willing to bet Yixing’s back in his dorm right now, balls deep in that guy. Or about to be.” Yixing covers his face with both hands, shoulders shaking in silent laughter. Jongdae coughs, hoping to cover any Yixing’s soft giggling noises the microphone might pick up. “Listen, I gotta go, Chanyeol. I’m sure Yixing’s fine.”  
  
“You’re probably right.” Chanyeol laughs, cut-off by a hiccup. “Hey, sorry for waking you.”  
  
“No worries. Goodnight.”  
  
“Goodnight.” Jongdae hangs up the call and tosses the phone on Yixing’s bed.  
  
Yixing laughs outright, hands falling away from his face. “Oh my god.”  
  
“I’m good, right?” Jongdae asks. He readjusts his hand for a better grip and resumes his previous pace.  
  
One of Yixing’s hands pushes Jongdae’s hair away from his forehead. “I can’t believe that just happened.” The fingers tighten when Jongdae licks a stripe up Yixing’s cock. “Shit.”  
  
“So, how about it?” Jongdae asks, giving Yixing a last few tight strokes. “Ready to be balls deep in a handsome stranger on your birthday?” He gets to his feet. “You do have lube and stuff, right?”  
  
Yixing blinks at him, mind switching from some other train of thought to processing Jongdae’s question. “Yeah.” His gaze falls to Jongdae’s unzipped pants, and his hands follow, tugging them all the way open. Jongdae stumbles forward when Yixing tugs him by the belt loops. “You’re wearing too many clothes to be my birthday present.”  
  
“My apologies, birthday boy,” Jongdae says. Yixing eases his pants down while Jongdae discards his shirt. Kicking off his shoes and his pants, Jongdae asks, “So, lube? Lube would be a great start.”  
  
“Right.” Yixing stands, fumbling in his dresser for the goods. Once naked, Jongdae picks up the shirt and throws it over the other desk chair. He turns around, taking himself in hand for a few hard tugs while he waits for Yixing to toss him a bottle of lubricant. “Thought I lost it,” Yixing says when he turns around.  
  
“Give it here.”  
  
“You’re sure?” Yixing asks, lube in hand but not holding it out for Jongdae to take. Between thumb and forefinger of his other hand, Jongdae spots the tell-tale foil of a condom.  
  
Jongdae takes a few steps, closing the distance between them. “I’m sure.” He snatches the lube out of Yixing’s hand. “Put on your birthday condom and get some cake.” Jongdae presses Yixing back until he sits down the bed. Getting a knee up first, Jongdae crawls next to him.  
  
The condom wrapper flutters to the floor when Yixing rips it open. He rolls it down his length while Jongdae uncaps the lube, coating his fingertips with it and reaching behind him to tease his ass open. It goes faster than before, used to the stretch now that he’s been regularly playing with himself when he gets the chance. Still, Jongdae doesn’t try to rush, and Yixing doesn’t pressure him to, caressing his face with one hand and pressing kisses to his shoulder.  
  
Two fingers in, and they’ve shifted so they both can lay side-by-side on Yixing’s bed. “When I ride you tonight, none of that sweet shit, alright?” Jongdae says.  
  
“So the slow grind is out, but cuddling isn’t?” Yixing asks.  
  
“Yep, that about sums it up.”  
  
Yixing strokes his dick in thought. “You’d tell me if you caught feelings, right?” He leans back on his free elbow, other hand still occupied.  
  
Jongdae eases the fingers out of his asshole to coat them with more lube. “Well, yeah,” Jongdae says. “Though the idea is for us to have some fun without…all that stuff. Get out before it happens, or right when it starts, and we maintain our friendship.”  
  
“Like before all this.”  
  
“Yeah, like before we started having sex.” Jongdae leans forward again, working on relaxing himself. It’s nice having Yixing here, talking while they wait.  
  
Yixing angles Jongdae’s face toward him with one hand, kissing him. “Good.” He moves to deepen the kiss, nibbling at Jongdae’s top lip, but Jongdae pulls away, laughing.  
  
“Hey, I’m good, but I still need a bit of focus here,” he says, testing another finger.  
  
Once Jongdae is ready, he swings one leg over Yixing’s lap. Between the two of them, they get Yixing’s cock lined up with Jongdae’s ass, ready for Jongdae to sink down at his own pace.  
  
Jongdae hums when he does, enjoying the feeling of Yixing stretching him just a bit wider, filling him up just a bit more. He lowers himself down Yixing’s shaft until their hips wedge together. Yixing’s hands find his ass, one cheek for each palm. He squeezes, grinning at Jongdae. Jongdae likes how he looks at this angle, and tells him so.  
  
“I like the way you look sitting on my cock, too.”  
  
Pushing him back to lay flat against the bed, Jongdae starts riding Yixing. “How about this angle?” Jongdae says, leaning forward.  
  
“Even better,” he says, running his hands up and down Jongdae’s sides. Jongdae sinks all the way back down, grinding their hips together. Yixing moans a string of curses in one breath.  
  
Jongdae grins and resumes fucking Yixing in quick, short strokes. “That’s what I thought.”  
  
“Whose birthday is this anyway?” Yixing looks from the ceiling to Jongdae, to the growing and disappearing space where their bodies join. His hands scratch down Jongdae’s torso during their next run. “Aw, shit.”  
  
“Yours,” Jongdae says. He sits in Yixing’s lap, pausing to lean lean back, before he starts back up again.  
  
Propelled by their mutual need to fuck, Yixing thrusts his hips into Jongdae. “Mine,” he says, scratching his hands down Jongdae’s thighs.  
  
Their eyes meet while Jongdae bounces on Yixing’s cock, Jongdae’s eyes losing focus on one particularly well-angled thrust. “Fuck,” Jongdae says, grabbing his own dick and stroking himself. He can’t look away from Yixing, watching pleasure light up Yixing’s face as they fuck. That potent look from the club returns in the intensity of his eyes and the curves of his mouth. It sets on fire the molten heat building in Jongdae’s groin. Sweat drips down Jongdae’s back, beading at Yixing’s temples.  
  
Jongdae arches with the next thrust, rolling his hips, moaning with abandon. Yixing breaks their visual link, shutting his eyes and slamming his head backwards on the bed. “Faster,” he begs, and Jongdae speeds up, desperate pace bringing them both closer and closer to the edge.  
  
His body thrums, tense and waiting for release. “You first,” says Jongdae, squeezing his ass, his hand. “Fuck it right, and come.”  
  
Yixing’s thrusts become erratic, but then again, so are Jongdae’s. “Fuck, Jongdae,” Yixing says, loud and shameless over the squelch of sex. His fingers dig into Jongdae’s asscheeks. “Fuck.” Their pace is breakneck. Jongdae’s thighs burn, his back burns, he’s so full, he doesn’t want this to stop. And Yixing is moaning so, so loud, breathing heavy, and coming, shuddering below him. Jongdae loses himself to the sight, the sounds, shooting out over his hand, painting Yixing’s torso with each spurt. They don’t stop moving, don’t stop groaning, names fading in each other’s throats. Not until Jongdae’s collapsed against Yixing and they’re both finished.  
  
Yixing soothes his palms down the red scores on Jongdae’s thighs, up his sides. He frames Jongdae’s face in his hands, and Jongdae tries not to feel so at home like this. “Happy fucking birthday,” Jongdae says. He smiles into Yixing’s kiss, their lips chapped and mouths dry.  
  
“Thanks,” Yixing says when they pull away. “Didn’t get much cake though.” When Jongdae gives him a reproachful look, he laughs. “I mean the flour and sugar stuff.”  
  
Jongdae sits up and slides Yixing’s softening cock from his ass, resettling on his lap. “Well, lick the icing, then,” he says, pushing around the cum on Yixing’s belly.  
  
He meant it as a joke, but Yixing licks his lips. “Okay.”  
  
“What?”  
  
“I said, okay.” Yixing links his fingers behind his head, supporting his neck as he looks up at Jongdae. It’s a view Jongdae could get used to.  
  
Jongdae nods. “Okay.” He scoops up as much cum as he can with two fingers. Then, leaning forward, he presses them past the tight seam of Yixing’s lips. Yixing laves at his fingers, licking them, sucking them clean. Jongdae’s eyes widen at the sensation, surprised how much he likes it. The pull out is slow, his own lips parting as he moves. Jongdae takes his time, enjoying the drag of his fingers over Yixing’s full bottom lip.  
  
They sit there, panting. Staring. The fire’s back in Yixing’s eyes, too soon to do anything of substance, but alluring all the same.  
  
Yeah, Jongdae thinks, leaning down to let his tongue trace over the path his fingers took, he could really get used to this.


	11. October - Movie Night

The riot of popcorn dies away and Baekhyun opens the microwave. “I don’t know why we didn’t start this up ages ago,” he says, opening the bag and dumping the contents into a bowl. “We’ve got a good set up for it now.” He tosses the used microwave popcorn bag in the trash.

“Now we do, yeah,” Jongdae says, rearranging Baekhyun’s desk to accommodate their new TV. “Nobody wants to crowd around a little laptop screen when they could just take the shuttle out to Junmyeon’s.”

Baekhyun sets the bowl on top of the microwave. “That’s true.” Someone knocks on the door. “I’ll get it,” he says.

Jongdae’s back is still turned, unrolling the cable to hook up his laptop to the TV screen, but he recognizes the voices. “Hey Jongdae,” says Chanyeol, “need any help with that?”

“I’m good, thanks,” Jongdae says, pausing his work to greet Chanyeol with a hug. “We’ll get started once everyone else gets here.”

Face to face, Yixing holds up a plastic bag. “Thanks for these,” he says. “I washed them.”

Jongdae takes the bag from him, fingers brushing during the exchange. “Thank you,” he says, peering inside. Both the pants and the shirt are folded, neater than Jongdae expected. “You didn’t have to do that.” He steps around Yixing to set the bag on his desk.

“Take a seat on my bed or Jongdae’s or take the desk chairs,” Baekhyun says. “I know Jongin and Sehun were going to try to come, but everyone else is already talking about midterms.”

Chanyeol rolls on Baekhyun’s bed, making himself at home. “Don’t they start next week?” he asks, lying on his side with his head propped up in his hand. “We got plenty of time.”

“Some people have early midterms,” Yixing says, sitting at Jongdae’s turned-around desk chair. Jongdae grabs his laptop from his desk, bringing it across the room. Earlier, he’d cleared enough space on top of Baekhyun’s desk hutch for the slim TV and his laptop to fit. “Some people need a little more preparation.”

Baekhyun joins Chanyeol on his bed with the bowl of popcorn, which Chanyeol helps himself to a handful. “Don’t you and Kyungsoo have like, three midterms?” Baekhyun asks.

“Well, they’re not midterms but end-of-the-month exams,” he says. “We don’t have a midterm in sociology, just those.”

“Woah, no final either?”

Yixing doesn’t say anything, and Jongdae can’t see, but he assumes Yixing shakes his head no.

Baekhyun whistles. “Nice.”

Someone knocks at the door as Yixing asks, “What movie are we watching?”

Jongdae gets down from Baekhyun’s desk to answer it, but by the time he’s turned around, Yixing is already halfway there. “The Devil Wears Prada,” Baekhyun says.

The new guests turn out to be Seulgi, Soojung, and Jongin. “Glad you guys made it,” Jongdae says as Yixing ushers them in. “Can I get anyone something to drink?”

“I brought a guest,” Soojung says.

Seulgi waves. “Hi. I hope you guys don’t mind I tagged along.”

“No, not at all! Have a seat wherever,” Baekhyun says, gesturing to the room in a wide sweep of his arm. “We’re just about to get started I think.” Yixing shuts the door. “Popcorn?”

Managing to squeeze themselves on Jongdae’s bed, the last three arrivals claim the bowl for themselves. Jongdae grins and pops another bag of popcorn in the microwave. He turns around to find Yixing there, waiting for him. It takes them both a moment before Yixing says, “You said drinks?”

Jongdae grins. “Yeah. Thirsty?” He turns around, opening the mini-fridge beneath their microwave. Baekhyun made sure they’d stocked it with a shelf full of half-size water bottles. Their own food, like Jongdae’s probiotic yogurt and Baekhyun’s half-eaten leftovers, they’ve crammed on the bottom shelf. Jongdae grabs one of the small water bottles and offers it to Yixing. “I hope you like water.”

Yixing laughs. “Water’s fine.”

Once the popcorn’s refreshed and everyone’s settled, Jongdae starts the movie and flips off the lights. He rolls Baekhyun’s chair across the floor until he’s sitting next to Yixing. Jongdae tries not to feel like Baekhyun’s watching them.

“I love this movie,” Seulgi says as the scene opens. “Meryl Streep is great in this.”

Baekhyun nearly falls of the bed in his excitement. “Are you serious? I love Meryl!” He fans his face. “She is perfection!” He points at Soojung. “Bring her along more often. Now I have someone to talk to about Kramer Vs. Kramer.”

Seulgi laughs. “Halloween’s coming up, wouldn’t Death Becomes Her be more topical?”

Jongdae’s pretty certain that Baekhyun’s gasp sucks all the air out of the room. “She’s perfect!” he tells Chanyeol before turning back to Seulgi. “You’re perfect. You can stay.”

“Hey, hey,” Yixing says, “can we all be quiet? I haven’t seen this before.”

“How are we friends?” Baekhyun asks, aghast. He shifts under Chanyeol’s arm, pillowing his head on his boyfriend’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, I know every line.”

Jongin says under his breath, “I think that’s what we’re all afraid of.” Jongdae looks over to ask what’s got Jongin so sour when he sees Soojung on the far side of the bed and Seulgi between them.

The group quiets down as once the characters begin speaking. Jongdae keeps his focus on the movie and definitely not on Yixing next to him, sitting legs splayed in his chair. Hands resting on his thighs. He hasn’t felt this awkward around Yixing since the first time they saw each other after that fateful party.

“I forgot Stanley Tucci was in this,” Soojung says as he appears in the frame.

Jongdae flicks his eyes back to the TV screen, a nice, neutral focal point. It’s a fun movie, Jongdae has to admit. Shitty first job right out of college, definitely relatable. Jongdae wonders if Minseok’s enjoying his time working…wherever he’s working. If the interview process was like this, if the coworkers are as catty. Probably not. It is Hollywood, after all, and drama is kinda their thing.

The movie progresses but Jongdae finds his attention drawn to Yixing bouncing his leg. He’s drawn up his hoodie around his face and sunk lower in the chair, and with the extra movement, Jongdae wonders if Yixing is actually comfortable. Is he cold? Maybe Jongdae should turn up the room’s heat, but with this many people, it should warm up soon enough.

Back on screen, the main character shows off her makeover, leaving the other characters speechless. Jongdae snorts.

“-the Chanel boots? Yeah, I am,” Baekhyun and Seulgi quote along with the main character.

“Oh, God,” says Jongin. He groans, only to be hushed by Jongdae. Jongin makes a face. Pouting his way through the movie isn’t a good look, especially if he’s angling to switch places with Seulgi. In Jongdae’s experience, a girl doesn’t cockblock for another girl unless she’s been asked. He’ll have to take Jongin aside sometime soon to let him in on that bit of knowledge.

Yixing turns to grin at Jongdae, his dimple an extra prominent shadow from the light of the TV. Jongdae returns it, gesturing at Jongin and shaking his head as if to say, ‘he’s hopeless.’

But then Yixing slides his chair closer to Jongdae, close enough their knees are touching, and turns back to watch the screen. Jongdae tells himself he should feel lucky Yixing’s stopped bouncing his leg, but it’s tough to listen over the rush he gets from such a simple gesture. It’s also a lot harder to focus on the movie, or feel as completely sucked in as everyone else seems to be. He doesn’t even cringe when the main character takes the ill advice of twins on a staircase. They look too much like something out of a horror movie to be good news for anyone.

To Jongdae’s consolation, Jongin is just as unengaged, his popcorn munching at almost disruptive levels.

“Oh god,” says Baekhyun, curling into Chanyeol to hide his face from the screen. “I know what happens but I can’t watch.”

Catastrophe happens, the crisis of being fired is averted, and Yixing’s thigh is still pressed against Jongdae’s. If Yixing is angling for a bit of fun with all their friends in the room, well, he’s got the wrong idea.

Except, this is how they used to be, Jongdae thinks. They used to have this kind of casual touching, physical affection without a second thought, until this semester. Maybe Yixing doesn’t mean anything by it. Maybe knees touching in a dark room is just a side effect of a comfortable, casual pose. Maybe Jongdae’s overthinking things, and should pay more attention to the movie.

The characters are attending some kind of gala now, everyone in black tie formal. “Hey, isn’t it that guy from that one TV show?” he asks, pointing at one of the actors.

Chanyeol agrees with him, talking over the movie. “I’ve been thinking the same thing this whole time. I knew he looked familiar.”

“Wow,” Yixing says. “You guys are good at remembering that kind of thing.” He turns his head to look at Jongdae. “I wouldn’t have remembered what else he was in.”

Jongdae shrugs, letting the movie take precedence again, and Yixing turns back to the TV. From his angle, Jongdae has to crane his neck a little bit to see the screen properly. It would be so easy to lay his head on Yixing’s shoulder. Just so he could watch better, he tells himself, but it’s hollow. Maybe if they weren’t on different seats, it would be okay.

Not leaning on Yixing has the added benefit of Baekhyun completely misinterpreting it. When Baekhyun thinks he’s right, he’s the most stubborn person Jongdae has ever met. Jongdae would rather not spend the rest of the night (and, if he’s being realistic, the rest of the week) arguing with Baekhyun about he and Yixing’s non-relationship.

A montage of sights, like the Eiffel Tower and fashion shows, flash by on screen to an upbeat soundtrack. “I would love to go to Paris,” Soojung says, sighing.

Yixing pulls off his hoodie, drawing Jongdae’s gaze again. He drapes it across his lap and crosses his arms over his chest. “Me too,” Yixing says. “I wouldn’t mind spending a week there, visiting the museums and listening to live music.”

“A week?” Seulgi leans forward, looking past Jongin. “You need more than a week to really see Paris.”

“I never said I wouldn’t go back.” Yixing shrugs. To Jongdae’s surprise, Jongin’s the one who shushes them this time. He’s abandoned the popcorn in favor of the movie, almost transfixed.

The rest of the film is lost on Jongdae. He’s seen it before, a few years ago, and tonight he’s spent too much time not paying attention for the climactic last few scenes to clinch. He stretches his arms, brushing against Yixing’s shoulder on accident, and letting his hands hang at his sides.

Chanyeol points with the hand not around Baekhyun. “Look at that state-of-the-art 2006 cell phone!”

As the protagonist throws her ringing phone into a fountain, Yixing drops one hand, too. Surreptitiously, his hand finds Jongdae’s and their pinkies curl together. Jongdae tries not to read too much into it, or into the happy warmth radiating from their fingers.

When the credits roll, he slips his hand out to turn on the lights. “That was fun,” Chanyeol says. Everyone groans when the lights come back on.

Yixing nods. “We should do this again.” Back turned, he’s looking at Chanyeol and Baekhyun.

“Yeah, I think we’ll try again after midterms,” Baekhyun says. He claps his hands together. “Okay, everybody out. Jongdae’s up early tomorrow.”

Eventually, the room clears, and when Baekhyun hops in the shower, Jongdae’s left to put the room back together.


	12. October - Fooling Around

Another Friday night, another extra practice before the showcase next week. Jongdae opens the practice room door to the muted sounds of piano playing. Grinning, he shuffles along the short corridors, seeking the pianist and hoping for the best.  
  
He finds Yixing in the middle of the third string of practice rooms, and once Jongdae has permission, he lets himself in.  
  
“I’m not up for some fun this time,” Yixing says with a wily grin.  
  
Jongdae laughs. “I’m not here for that. You sound amazing.”  
  
Yixing sighs. “I hope so. I’m subbing for a midterm performance and got the sheet music Monday.”  
  
“Vocal performance?” Jongdae asks, coming around the piano to look at the music.  
  
“Yeah,” Yixing says. “The arrangements they chose don’t have tricky accompaniments.”  
  
Jongdae leans forward, one hand on the piano case. “Shenandoah?” Yixing shrugs. “Yeah, I know this one. Play me in,” Jongdae says, dropping his bag in an empty chair.  
  
“What?”  
  
“It’ll be fun.” He stretches his arms above his head, then drops them. “When does the vocalist come in?”  
  
Yixing points. “There. I’ll cue you.” He settles his hands on the keys, takes a breath, and begins to play.  
  
It’s an old American folk song, and the arrangement reflects that kind of nostalgic feeling. Jongdae’s used to hearing orchestral or a cappella arrangements, but Yixing has a way with the piano that makes him think this is how it should be performed. He almost misses Yixing’s cue, busy watching Yixing’s hands dance over the ivory, filling the room with rich music.  
  
Jongdae opts for a register lower than what he usually sings in the a capella group. The further they progress, the more he plays around with it in a way he can’t when singing in a group or over a recording. Yixing follows his lead when he decides to draw out notes, or speeding up to make up the lost bars. Yixing has fun with it, too, adding flair he might not if this were a real accompaniment performance.  
  
By the time they finish, they’re both grinning. “See?” Jongdae says. “Fun.”  
  
“You should sing in your lower register more,” Yixing says, turning on the piano bench and pulling up a knee. He anchors both hands on the shoe now pressed against his other thigh. “Your resonance is so much fuller. It’s great.”  
  
“You think so?” Jongdae asks. The little compliment triggers a small surge of affection that catches Jongdae off-guard. Funny, he thinks, how that’s been happening. “Thank you.”  
  
“I should ask you to help me with my composition work.” Yixing fiddles with his shoelace. “It’d be a lot better to have a human voice than the computer.” He re-ties his shoe. “And you could give me feedback about what’s comfortable, what’s possible.”  
  
Hunched over, he looks smaller than he is, almost childlike. The timidity of the request surprises Jongdae. “If we have time, sure,” he says, putting his hands in his pockets.  
  
“Not tonight,” Yixing says. “But I mean it. I’d love it if you would let me play around with your vocal range.” He slides his foot back down to the floor. “Soon, maybe. If I finish a suitable draft in time.”  
  
He wants to ask what deadline Yixing’s talking about, to learn more about the composition in progress. Instead, Jongdae assumes Yixing means a midterm. He picks up his bag from the chair. “Yeah, good luck with that,” Jongdae says. He doesn’t want to leave, but there’s no reason to stay, so he bids Yixing goodnight and heads home.


	13. October - Burn

All things considered, Sunday night is a terrible night to do anything except mourn the weekend and cram homework. Jongdae’s almost prepared for his public communication midterm, grateful Baekhyun left for Chanyeol’s a few hours ago to let Jongdae practice his speech. A few more practice rounds, and he won’t need to rely on the note cards anymore.  
  
Jongdae straightens in the mirror, widening his stance and setting his shoulders. He smiles at his reflection and begins another run-through.  
  
Someone raps their knuckles on the door. When Jongdae sets his notes on his desk, they knock again, this time expanding their rhythm to include another hand for a syncopated beat. “Baekhyun, I’m coming, I’m coming.” He opens the door. “Did you forget your key?” Jongdae asks, but stops short when he sees Yixing, black and grey camouflage hoodie drawn up over his head, leaning one arm against the frame, looking at his shoes. “Oh, hey. What’s up?”  
  
Yixing looks up, eyes dark and red-rimmed. He runs a lethargic hand through his hair, pushing back the hood. “Can I come in?” he asks. Jongdae moves aside, and when Yixing passes by him, Jongdae recognizes the earthy, unmistakable smell of weed.  
  
He shuts the door. “Is everything okay?” Jongdae asks.  
  
“Yeah, yeah,” Yixing says. His eyes scan the room before swinging back to Jongdae. Biting his lip, Yixing takes a step forward. “We’re alone.”  
  
“That we are,” Jongdae says. Yixing takes another step, and another, crowding Jongdae against the door. He slides his hands up Jongdae’s chest, a slow trail over Jongdae’s wide-necked sweater that ends with Yixing’s arms wrapped around his shoulders, fingers teasing the hair at the nape of Jongdae’s neck. “You’re high.” Yixing doesn’t respond, leaning in to tongue kisses along Jongdae’s jaw. Closing his eyes, Jongdae lets his hands find Yixing’s waist before scratching them up his back.  
  
With a hum, Yixing arches against the touch. The zipper on Yixing’s hoodie is a thick, hard cord pressing into Jongdae’s chest. Jongdae opens his eyes. Yixing eyelids droop like he’s half-asleep, more so than usual. “Sehun came over.” He starts giggling, eyes crinkling shut. “Baekhyun’s so fucking stoned, Jongdae, it’s hilarious.”  
  
“Hilarious.”  
  
“When I left, he was super into Chanyeol’s comforter,” Yixing leans back in, pressing his forehead to the side of Jongdae’s neck and tightening his embrace. “You feel so good.” His fingers resume teasing the hair on the back of Jongdae’s head with a chuckle. The breath is hot against Jongdae’s skin. “I have a favor to ask of my favorite Jongdae.”  
  
“I’m your only Jongdae.” He scratches down Yixing’s back, and Yixing practically purrs. “I have a feeling I know what you’re going to ask me, but,” Jongdae pushes Yixing away until there’s space between them and Jongdae can step away from the door, “ask away.”  
  
Instead, Yixing’s eyes refocus on Jongdae’s mouth, hungry. They rest there before commencing a slow drag up Jongdae’s face. Even slightly bloodshot, they’re a beautiful brown that looks like it could go on forever. The red might bring it out, Jongdae thinks, which could be why he’s never noticed before. “I need you to fuck me.” Yixing blinks, licks his lips. “Like. Your dick? But, in my ass.”  
  
“Oh.” Jongdae’s initial guess was close, it’s the details that are off. Not that he minds. “I can do that.”  
  
Yixing steps back until he bumps into the hutch end Jongdae’s desk. “No, wait.” He leans against it, half-sitting on the edge of the surface  
  
“Okay.” Jongdae takes a step forward.  
  
Yixing fiddles with the strings on his hood. “Fuck me like you don’t love me,” Yixing says. “Please? Or, like, like you hate me. Like, really…that kind of, you know.” His hands anchor around the ends of the hoodie’s strings, pulling it tighter around his neck. The desperation climbs in his voice. “I need it. I need you to do this for me. Please? Jongdae? Please do this for me.” Jongdae advances until he can nudge his feet between Yixing’s, who widens his stance to let him in. Yixing releases the strings, instead putting both palms flat on Jongdae’s torso. “I just want to feel, like, I just want that. I want you. Fucking me really hard. That’d be really, really, really….” Yixing’s already quiet voice trails off as Jongdae closes the gap between their hips.  
  
“Yixing,” Jongdae says, curling one finger underneath Yixing’s chin to angle his head up. “You want me to be rough? I can be rough.”  
  
Fingers curl in Jongdae’s sweater, hauling him down. Jongdae sinks his teeth into Yixing’s lower lip before licking his way into Yixing’s mouth. Yixing reeks of pot. It’s one of Jongdae’s least favorite things, having never understood the appeal himself and found the smell off-putting. Even so, he can’t stop devouring the pitiful, desperate sounds Yixing makes the rougher he gets. Those little mewls of pleasure vibrate through Jongdae, setting his heart racing.  
  
Jongdae lifts Yixing by the hips, depositing him on his desk, and Yixing hooks his legs around Jongdae’s waist. Yixing clinging to him goes straight to Jongdae’s head. His hands rove over Yixing’s ass, pressing his lower back, urging him closer. Yixing winds his arms around Jongdae’s shoulders, grabbing at his sweater and pulling up Jongdae’s back.  
  
“Fuck it,” Jongdae says, stepping back. He pulls his sweater off, flinging it aside. Returning to Yixing’s embrace, he shivers when Yixing clings to him, nails scratching his skin. Jongdae unzips his hoodie, pushing it down Yixing’s arms and off his body. He returns close, pressing against Yixing, wedging their hips together.  
  
Leaning back, Yixing puts an arm out to steady himself, slipping on the slick surface of Jongdae’s closed laptop. “Fuck.”  
  
“Oh, shit,” Jongdae says, pulling back.  
  
Yixing presses his mouth to Jongdae’s in a soft, wet kiss. “Sorry.”  
  
“No, don’t apologize.” Jongdae squeezes his hands on Yixing’s waist. “I’ve got a solution.” He slides his hands to Yixing’s hips, arranging Yixing’s legs before lifting him up off the desk.  
  
“Woah,” Yixing says, clinging tighter to Jongdae. He buries his head against Jongdae’s neck as Jongdae carries Yixing to the bed. “You’re so strong.” Jongdae almost laughs at the absurdity of the situation, but Yixing’s breath is hot over his skin, and if Jongdae laughs, he might drop Yixing on the floor.  
  
In some kind of miracle, Jongdae manages to keep Yixing in the air all the way to his bed. He lays Yixing out on his back. Yixing’s legs remain wrapped around Jongdae’s waist as Jongdae joins him, kneeling on his bed. He’s laid out in front of Jongdae, arms above his head, eyes-half closed. Jongdae hooks one thumb under the hem of Yixing’s shirt and hikes it up to his collarbones.  
  
Once his torso is revealed to Jongdae’s eye, Jongdae trails his hand slowly over the skin. It’s a worshipful gesture, an almost reverent cataloguing every freckle and discoloration on Yixing’s chest. The peaks of his dark nipples harden as Jongdae’s hand moves over them, fingertips sliding past. Yixing reacts to his touch, arching into it, shivering when Jongdae shifts the weight in his hand to his fingertips.  
  
Jongdae splays his hand wide when he reaches the firm bumps of developed muscle on Yixing’s abdomen. His fingers run over each one, down to Yixing’s navel and the wispy trail of coarse hair below it. In this, Yixing angles his hips up into the touch when Jongdae’s palm comes to rest over Yixing’s pants. Jongdae traces his thumb over the button at Yixing’s waistband: a suggestion, an end goal.  
  
With a hum, Yixing reaches down to pull his shirt off the rest of the way. Jongdae helps, holding him up by the waist and setting Yixing back down on the bed once his shirt is somewhere on the floor. Yixing’s arms stretch out above his head, and he rolls out his neck.  
  
Leaning forward, Jongdae pins Yixing’s wrists above his head and leans down to kiss him, grinding their hips together. They’re still wearing entirely too many clothes, so once the pressure is almost unbearable in his pants, Jongdae backs off to strip them from himself. Yixing lounges on the bed, grinning wider and wider the closer Jongdae gets to naked. “Am I going to have to take these off you, too?” Jongdae asks, pulling at Yixing’s jeans.  
  
Yixing laughs. “Do it with your teeth,” he says, trailing a finger across his own mouth. He catches the tip sideways between his teeth.  
  
“No.” Jongdae unfastens Yixing’s jeans, yanking them down his thighs and depositing them on the floor with his own. The underwear beneath follows much in the same way. “You want me to be rough?” Jongdae takes himself in hand, stroking himself to hardness. He straddles Yixing, shifting his weight from knee to knee as he walks himself up. Sitting on Yixing’s chest, Jongdae leans forward to pin Yixing’s wrists to the bed again and says, “I’m going to fuck your mouth.”  
  
Yixing looks at Jongdae’s cock, jutting out hard from Jongdae’s hips. His eyes scan up Jongdae’s torso to his face. He smiles, opens his mouth, and lets his tongue hang out. Waiting.  
  
Shifting his weight to one arm, Jongdae uses his other hand to guide himself into Yixing’s mouth. He presses the head of his dick along the center of Yixing’s tongue, scooting his knees forward on the bed. Only when he’s satisfied with his angle and that he won’t accidentally fall out, Jongdae puts his hand back on Yixing’s wrist.  
  
He starts slow, an easy shift forward into the wet, wet heat of Yixing’s mouth and the pull out almost to the head of his dick. The next push he ventures deeper, quicker, but still hesitant to hit the back of Yixing’s throat. The third press, Yixing angles his head up to meet him, sucking in his cheeks and curling his tongue, and Jongdae almost collapses.  
  
“Shit, ok,” he says. “I’ll go faster.” Yixing hums as Jongdae pulls back out, rolling his tongue around the head of Jongdae’s cock.  
  
The fourth press, Jongdae doesn’t give Yixing a chance to take him by surprise. He thrusts in fast and hard, finally fucking Yixing’s mouth. Yixing’s eyes squeeze shut, his tongue struggling to keep up with Jongdae’s pace before settling on the bottom of his mouth. Even without Yixing’s tricksy tongue making Jongdae’s head spin, Jongdae loses himself in the sensation. The look on Yixing’s face when Jongdae bottoms out. The fluttering around Jongdae’s cock when Yixing gags on a rough angle but sucks harder, determined to keep Jongdae there. The soft sounds, the goddamn slurping when Jongdae pulls off to tease his head just past Yixing’s lips. The way his face looks from above when Jongdae surprises him with a thrust, eyes flashing open wide and moaning around Jongdae’s cock.  
  
When Jongdae finally pulls himself out, Yixing’s lips and chin shine from his spit. He swings one leg over Yixing, rolling to one side, freeing him from being pinned. Yixing barely has enough time to wipe his chin with the back of his hand before Jongdae is on him again, wrapping his arms around Yixing. Jongdae rolls him over until Yixing’s on his belly, pulling Yixing’s hips up, then fists his hand in Yixing’s hair to press his cheek into the mattress. “Spread your fucking legs,” Jongdae says, “and stay that way.”  
  
Yixing does as he’s told, even when Jongdae has to maneuver himself off the bed in a quick hunt for condoms and lube. Yixing’s still there when Jongdae’s ready, poised with his ass in the air and cock hanging heavy between his legs.  
  
The first touch of Jongdae’s slicked up finger sends a shiver through Yixing’s body. To fuck Yixing how he wants it, Jongdae knows they have to take their time, so he goes slow, so much slower than Yixing wants him to go. He works Yixing with one finger until he’s well relaxed, making him beg and beg for another finger, and even then, Jongdae teases him. “Tell me how much you want it,” Jongdae says, tracing the whorl of muscle with a featherlight touch of a single fingertip.  
  
“I need it, Jongdae, please, give me more.” His voice is muffled by the angle of his body and the way his face presses against the bed. “Another, I’m ready. I’m so ready, please.” Jongdae presses the pads of two fingers into Yixing, and Yixing’s moan reverberates in Jongdae’s chest. “God, yes.”  
  
Jongdae plays with him, rubbing, touching, teasing with two fingers. Yixing tries to fuck himself on them when Jongdae presses them in after another application of lube. He doesn’t get far. Jongdae ducks his head between Yixing’s legs, stopping his motion with a long, flat lick of his tongue along Yixing’s cock.  
  
They spend more time prepping Yixing than they probably need, but Jongdae would rather spend too much than not enough on each step of this process.  
  
When Yixing can take three fingers easy, begging for a hint of a fourth, Jongdae gives it to him to see if he can take it. He can. Jongdae slips his fingers out, ignoring Yixing’s muted hiss of disappointment.  
  
For good measure, Jongdae drizzles a cool stream of lube on Yixing’s ass, then his own cock, coating it. He’s going to buy another bottle once the night’s through.  
  
Yixing’s hip fills the curve of Jongdae’s palm. He pushes the head of his dick into Yixing, inhaling sharply once he’s inside. The grip on Yixing’s hip strengthens, duplicated when both Jongdae’s hands find Yixing’s hips and squeeze. That first press all the way into Yixing’s tight heat blur Jongdae’s thoughts, a haze of sensation and want. He wants to fuck Yixing so well that Yixing won’t stop thinking about it all week.  
  
The nasal whine into Jongdae’s mattress pulls him into the moment. “Jongdae,” says Yixing. “You feel so good.” Jongdae drags his hips back, then thrusts in again, this time with more force. “Mm, more of that.”  
  
On instinct, Jongdae reaches forward with one hand. He grabs the back of Yixing’s head, smashing his forehead into the mattress. “You want more?”  
  
“More,” Yixing says. “Pull my hair harder.” So Jongdae does, heat surging through him when Yixing groans. Jongdae fucks into him again, starting up a pace that makes his back burn with the effort. He readjusts his grip on Yixing’s hair and angles Yixing’s head where he wants.  
  
“You want more?” Jongdae asks, pulling Yixing’s head up when he moans in reply. “Huh?”  
  
“It’s good, Jongdae.”  
  
“Tell me you love it.”  
  
Yixing curves his back, shifting the angle of his hips. “I fucking love it.”  
  
Jongdae releases his grip, and Yixing’s head falls back to the mattress, melting almost bonelessly into the sheets as Jongdae fucks him. He never thought it could be like this, Yixing spread out beneath him, pliant and ready, or that he would enjoy it this much. That Yixing would beg for Jongdae to pull his hair, and that Jongdae would lead him around by it.  
  
Yixing almost screams with impatience when Jongdae pulls out, but Jongdae muffles it, pressing Yixing into his mattress. Jongdae leans forward and nips at Yixing’s shoulder. Once Jongdae’s satisfied Yixing’s stopped whining, he grabs Yixing’s wrists, folding Yixing’s arms over his back. “How’re your shoulders?” Jongdae asks, applying pressure on Yixing’s back. “That okay?”  
  
“Not so much,” Yixing says, so Jongdae eases off. “A little…ah, that’s good.”  
  
“Good.” Jongdae puts one foot over Yixing’s hip, down one one knee and straddling Yixing’s leg. With a new angle, he slides his dick back inside Yixing. Jongdae readjusts his grip on Yixing’s arms, squeezing Yixing’s wrists tight. “Still good?”  
  
A flush colors Yixing’s face, spreading down from his scalp to paint the tips of his ears and the bridge of his nose a bright pink. Yixing’s eyes have fallen shut from what Jongdae figures is the right combination of pot and sex. “Fuck, yes,” he breathes.  
  
Using gravity to his advantage, Jongdae resumes his pace. His back aches less at this angles, but his thighs bear the more of the strain. Yixing’s as slick and tight as before, face-first into Jongdae’s sheets, arms pinned to his back by Jongdae’s hands, moaning for more.  
  
The whole thing is a fucking power trip, and Jongdae’s never been more into it.  
  
His orgasm rushes in his pulse, the building tension in his body, getting closer with each thrust. Jongdae holds off, slowing his pace, to Yixing’s vocal displeasure. “We were almost there,” Yixing whines when Jongdae pulls out to bring his leg back from over Yixing’s hip.  
  
Settling on his knees behind Yixing, Jongdae fits his length entirely inside. Then he reaches down, fists his hand in Yixing’s hair, and pulls him upright. Jongdae doesn’t stop until he’s pulled Yixing’s back against his chest. The hand at the back of Yixing’s head slides around to cradle his jaw. Two fingers of that hand press past Yixing’s lips, one on either side of his mouth.  
  
His other arm Jongdae winds around Yixing’s hips. He hooks the thumb of his hand around Yixing’s cock before wrapping the rest of his hand around it. Yixing’s hard and hot in Jongdae’s palm. Jongdae wonders if he could have come like that, untouched.  
  
The race to the end is a messy, uncoordinated one. Jongdae thrusts, shallow and rough, into Yixing. He strokes Yixing’s cock as fast as he can with his hand, foregoing fancy technique in favor of speed.  
  
One of Yixing’s hands comes up to press Jongdae’s fingers deeper into his mouth. He tongues lazily at the digits, breath coming in hot and short bursts.  
  
Jongdae releases Yixing’s dick for a moment. He finds Yixing’s free hand, covers it with his own, and brings them both back to wrap around Yixing’s shaft. Together, they finish Yixing off. Yixing shudders in Jongdae’s grip, shouting around his fingers. He paints long, stripes of cum, release shooting out over Jongdae’s sheets.  
  
When he’s finished, Jongdae releases his grip and slips his fingers from Yixing’s mouth. He shoves him back down to the mattress, pressing square between Yixing’s shoulders, almost at the nape of the neck. Grunting with exertion, Jongdae fucks Yixing as hard as he can until he, too, comes with a hoarse shout, eyes snapping shut as it thunders through him in waves.  
  
His eyes open, body pressed forward against Yixing, tangled up together. Warm.  
  
“Did I hurt you?” Jongdae murmurs, turning his head and kissing whatever skin he can reach. He’s not yet going soft inside Yixing, but that eventuality will come sooner rather than later. Jongdae holds the base of the condom as he pulls out, a shuddering sigh slipping past his guard.  
  
Yixing murmurs something. Jongdae realizes he’s been peppering Yixing’s back with affection. They shift around, rolling over on the bed until Yixing can speak, unhindered. “I’ll be sore, but fuck,” Yixing sighs, eyes still closed. He opens them, slow to focus on Jongdae’s face. “Worth it.”  
  
Jongdae gives in to the undeniable urge to kiss him on the mouth before disposing of the condom and lets himself be coaxed into another round of kisses upon his return.


	14. October - Gym

It feels like a trap when Baekhyun joins Jongdae for an evening trip to the gym. Things start out innocent enough, talking about papers and midterms as they change into shorts and tees in the locker room.  
  
They’re 5 minutes into the hills program on the ellipticals when Jongdae realizes he’s cornered.  
  
“Chanyeol told me this Saturday the jazz band’s performing,” Baekhyun says over the whirr of the machines and the Top 40s playing as the gym’s background soundtrack.  
  
“Really.” Jongdae keeps his eyes on the TVs, all muted with rolling captions across the bottoms of each screen. He settles on the screen with the news, reporting on the world’s markets and exchanges.  
  
“Yep,” says Baekhyun. “He’s got a solo in one of the songs. Same as Yixing.”  
  
Their machines switch to a higher resistance. “Do we buy tickets like in the spring or is it free?”  
  
“It’s free.” Baekhyun pauses, adjusting to the increase in effort. “Yixing asked me to make sure you would be there.”  
  
Jongdae laughs as best he can. “Of course I’ll go. He has to come support our showcase. It’s a trade.”  
  
“Is that all?”  
  
As much as Jongdae doesn’t want to elaborate, he knows he has to stop Baekhyun from jumping to conclusions. “We’re friends, Baekhyun. Nothing catastrophic has happened.”  
  
“Yet.” When Jongdae doesn’t respond, Baekhyun presses. “Not going to fight me on that point, huh?”  
  
“Well, I think it’s not entirely…,” Jongdae starts and stops, and starts again. “I think he isn’t being totally honest with me.”  
  
“What does that mean?” Baekhyun asks, though it sounds like he knows and wants to make Jongdae say it out loud.  
  
“I think he’s like, ugh. It sounds so melodramatic.” Jongdae checks the cardio area, making sure they’re out of earshot from the other late-night exercisers. “Come on, Baekhyun. Don’t make me do this.”  
  
Baekhyun makes a noise halfway between panting and laughing. “You think he wants more than just friends. Well, you may be right.”  
  
“Maybe.”  
  
“For some reason, he thinks quite highly of you.”  
  
Jongdae grunts as the machine takes them into the next gear. “What’s that supposed to mean?” He’s still sore from spending last night fucking Yixing instead of practicing his speech a few more times. Which means Yixing’s still feeling it, too. Wherever he is.  
  
“Oh, he never mentions you by name, but it’s like he talks about you every other day now.” Jongdae’s stomach swoops. “You must have some mouth.”  
  
“Is that what he talks about?” But Baekhyun’s wheezing too much for it to be anything more than teasing. “Shut up, oh my god.”  
  
“He just manages to mention you without mentioning you,” says Baekhyun. “Like the other day in Chanyeol’s room, we were all talking about midterms and shit. Then he just went off about someone he met in the practice rooms with an amazing voice.”  
  
Jongdae’s back prickles with sweat. “That could have been anyone.”  
  
“And then he opens his mouth and does this spot-on impression of you.” The excuse shrivels on the tip of Jongdae’s tongue. “Except it actually sounded good.”  
  
“Shut up.”  
  
“But then you won’t hear about how he liked all the clothes of yours I brought for him on his birthday,” Baekhyun says. “Though, that might be my eye for style than yours.”  
  
The machine kicks into the top gear for their program, and their conversation falls away. They sweat, they breathe, their lungs burn. The ellipticals bring them back down to a mid-level, and slow conversation becomes possible again. Jongdae steers the conversation away from his not-relationship with Yixing. Back to safer territory, where the only reason his heartbeat gets away from him is because they’re working out.  
  
He’s safe for the rest of their time at the gym, through their weight room circuit and a quick shower in the locker room. “So back to Yixing,” he says when they leave the building to head back to the dorm, and Jongdae kind of wants to die.  
  
“What do you want me to say?”  
  
“Something.” Baekhyun shrugs. “Anything.”  
  
The shuttle stop outside the gym is empty except for them. Jongdae bites his lip. “Fine.” He  
battles with phrasing until the bug-eyed pleading stare from Baekhyun is unbearable. “I think he’s starting to want something more, from me, maybe.”  
  
“And?”  
  
“And I don’t…that isn’t what I want.” Baekhyun just looks at him with dry disbelief. “I don’t!” Jongdae crosses his arms, wishing he’d brought a heavier sweater along.  
  
Baekhyun sighs. “Fine. Okay. I’ll play along.” Jongdae grits his teeth. “So, if you think he wants more than what you’ve got going on, what are you going to do?”  
  
“Nothing.” Jongdae shrugs. “I don’t have any proof, just a hunch.”  
  
“A hunch.” Baekhyun leans against the post marking the shuttle stop, shaking his head.  
  
“Plus, we have a good thing going right now,” Jongdae says, aware of how defensive he sounds but powerless to stop it. “He and I are just having a little bit of fun now and then. I might be reading too much into stuff that doesn’t mean anything, okay? It’s fine. It’s my problem, not his problem.”  
  
Baekhyun blinks. “What about him talking about you, like, every chance he gets?”  
  
“You told me that he never says my name, so that could be anyone.”  
  
“We all know it’s you!” Coming up from behind Baekhyun, Jongdae spots the lights of the next shuttle turning the corner. “Or maybe just me.”  
  
Kyungsoo’s face, smug during a cappella practice, comes to the forefront of Jongdae's mind. “I think Kyungsoo suspects, too.”  
  
“Right, yeah. Me and Kyungsoo, then.” The shuttle pulls to a stop in front of them, doors opening. “Jongdae, something’s going to happen sooner or later. I just want you to be ready.” They climb on, taking a seat near the middle of the shuttle bus. It pulls away from the stop before they get comfortable. “You know I’m on your side, right?”  
  
Jongdae wants to tell Baekhyun he’s wrong. There is no side to this, just a temporary arrangement between friends. No expectations, no pressure, except to not muck it up with sticky, complicated, overrated attachment. Jongdae’s kept up his end of the deal, and except for these whispers from his friends, so has Yixing. He drills that idea into his head like a mantra, but Jongdae can’t shake the feeling his friends are right.  
  
He isn’t sure what’s worse: that Yixing might be falling in love with him, or that Jongdae finds the way he’s hinted about it to be, well, adorable.  
  
Instead of arguing, Jongdae sighs and sinks into the seat. “Yeah, I know.” Baekhyun scoots closer to him, muttering a weak excuse about a heat vent, and clings to Jongdae’s arm the rest of the way home.


	15. October - Night Cafe

“Sorry I’m late,” Jongdae says after he closes the library study room door. How Yixing managed to book them a small study room during peak season is beyond Jongdae, but he’s grateful. “The professor had to get through all the material on the midterm for next week.”  
  
Yixing looks up from the open geology textbook and smiles. “Don’t worry about it.” He points with his pen to a stack of notecards on the table opposite of him. “I brought my extra notecards.”  
  
Jongdae sits in the chair, scooting in towards the table. “Thanks,” he says. “I’ll finish up my section of the review sheet real quick and we can quiz each other.”  
  
“Loser grabs the next round of coffee,” Yixing say, “and I’ve been studying.”  
  
“You think I haven’t?” Jongdae asks, quirking an eyebrow as he hauls his own textbook from his book bag. Yixing chuckles and Jongdae gets to work, finding the study guide from lecture and writing his share of the questions on one side of the cards. On the other, he’ll write the answers, and they’ll take turns asking each other questions until they’ve gone through them all.  
  
The thought rattles at the back of his mind like a ghost in the attic as he looks up characteristics of the asthenosphere. If Baekhyun’s right, if Yixing is really falling in love with him, which is better? Ending the fling before anything happens, which would probably alter their friendship anyway? Or pretending Jongdae doesn’t know anything and hope everything is fine? Jongdae can’t help sneaking looks at Yixing, hoping the answer will be written in plain language on Yixing’s face.  
  
Minutes tick past and Jongdae warms enough to shed his jacket down to his sweater. Jongdae notices Yixing’s eyes flick back down to his notes once Jongdae finishes draping his jacket over the next chair. Could that be…?  
  
This is all Baekhyun’s fault. If he hadn’t said anything, Jongdae wouldn’t be sitting here, divining meaning in the littlest of gestures. It doesn’t feel right. He doesn’t feel like himself.  
  
He focuses back on his notecards. Topographic expression relative to the lithosphere is far more important than trying to guess at something that might not even exist. But what if it does? He should be prepared. He should just ask Yixing for the truth, which could straighten out the whole situation and possibly prove Baekhyun wrong. Which means Jongdae would be right. He loves being right.  
  
Jongdae finishes another card and sets it on top of the others. They’re both adults here. Okay, maybe just barely, but it has to count for something. If he got himself into this mess, surely he can get himself out. His pen runs out of ink halfway through the phrase ‘compositional zone’, so he shakes his pen and scribbles until it comes back. Maybe saying something is the wrong move. He barricades his mind from further doubt, deciding to remain optimistic in the face of potential friendship catastrophe. They’ll come out of this okay. They must: it’s as simple as that.  
  
Devoting his attention to the vocabulary, the quiet of the study room creeps into his consciousness. No distracting sounds like Baekhyun’s music through his laptop speakers, no muted sound of someone’s TV turned up way too loud a few rooms over. He’s aware of his own breath, of Yixing uncrossing his legs, the sound of their chairs creaking when they move. The soft pink of Yixing’s mouth, the inky lashes framing his downcast eyes. His own heartbeat in his ears.  
  
The study room is entirely too hot.  
  
“Jongdae, are you okay?” Yixing asks as Jongdae completes the last card of his pile. “You’ve been kind of weird today.”  
  
“Yeah, I’m fine,” Jongdae says, stemming the flow of thoughts like a dam of thick concrete. He straightens his finished cards with a quick tap against the table. “Get ready to buy me a doubleshot mocha.”  
  
Yixing grabs his own stack of cards. “We’ll see about that. I’ll go first.” He shuffles his stack, long fingers moving adroitly, then reads the topmost card. “Magmas are divided into three compositional ranges based mainly on what?”  
  
\---  
  
Saturday night comes faster than Jongdae anticipates. He takes his seat at a table near the front with Jongin, saving one for Baekhyun who’s off in line for pumpkin cheesecake ice cream. Baekhyun makes it back in time for the show to start. He sets a cup of ice cream with a spoon in front of Jongdae as he takes his seat.  
  
The first band is the freshman and walk-ups, and Jongdae claps politely for each soloist. He recognizes most of the songs despite the lack of vocalists, but even fewer of the charts performed by the second band.  
  
By the time Yixing and Chanyeol take the stage, Jongdae’s long since finished his ice cream. Some of the members he recognizes. Chanyeol, obviously, takes his place next to Yixing’s piano, guitar slung around his neck. Sehun sets up on trumpet, looking quite cool in the all-black everything required of jazz players. Seungwan’s on saxophone, and Jongdae’s surprised to see a freshman on stage with the older members. “She must be good,” he says, leaning over and pitching his voice so only his table can hear.  
  
Yixing takes his seat at the piano. He sets his folder on the stand, arranging his music. Jongdae tries to catch his eye, grinning and waving with success. Yixing grins and gives him a little wave back. For good measure, Jongdae tries his luck with both Chanyeol and Sehun, but Sehun’s too busy fiddling with his horn to notice.  
  
A hush falls over the room when their director walks in front of the group. Everyone in the band gets ready to play as soon as the jazz director brings up their hands. He looks to the drums and snaps his fingers in time, then the band takes off.  
  
The first song is a rollicking swing, one that gets Jongdae’s toes tapping. He’s never heard it before, but that doesn’t matter. It’s good, it’s fun, and the band’s hitting on all sixes. A trumpet takes the first solo midway through the song, not Sehun but the girl next to him. She’s good, Jongdae wonders if it’s all improvised or if there’s a written line she’s supposed to follow. He applauds for her when her solo’s over, impressed.  
  
The next is a smokier song, slower, and featuring the saxophone section during the first half. In the second half, Chanyeol takes a solo, strumming cool chords and bobbing his head to the bluesy beat. Baekhyun makes Jongin get it all on video from his prime spot.  
  
Song number three is unlike the first two, slow yet exciting with a distinctly latin twist. The band plays together in a unified line, trombones taking the lead early. But then the wall of sound cuts back and the trumpets emerge over the sizzling cymbals from the drums. The latin beat switches to a big band sound for a few bars before slinking back to the previous style, and this time Sehun takes a short solo to a round of applause. By the end, the girl next to him has her face screwed up, trumpet screaming high notes that shouldn’t be in tune but are, and Jongdae can’t figure out how she’s even breathing. When that song finishes, Yixing finds Jongdae’s gaze and gives him a wink.  
  
While the musicians pull up the next song, the director turns around to make an announcement. “Thank you, ladies and gentlemen, for coming out to support us tonight,” the director says. “We’ve got one last tune for you.”  
  
Once the band is ready, and the room totally silent, the director gives the tiniest of count-offs and the group starts together. The song begins with a quiet build up to a loud chorus led by the trumpets and saxes. But then, everyone backs off, and Yixing takes a solo.  
  
In short, he’s amazing. One hand keeps up with the chord changes while the other dances over the keys. He incorporates musical phrases from the song while embellishing with lines of his own, engaging and elusive all at once. Jongdae’s never heard him play like this before, not in any of Yixing’s past performances or practice rooms. On stage he’s alive, fingers flying and eyes on the piano, closing them as he grooves for a few chords. Striking a chord with one hand, the other crawls up the keyboard, all the way to its highest octave, where he strikes another chord and snaps finger guns at the director with a grin.  
  
“Woah!” Jongdae’s mouth drops, and he can hear that he’s not the only one in the crowd left awestruck. The band gets right back into the song after Yixing’s solo, Yixing included.  
  
After the show, Jongin, Baekhyun, and Jongdae mill around near the stage, waiting for their friends to come back out. “They did so well,” Baekhyun says.  
  
Jongdae follows the stagehands’ lead and begins stacking chairs. “They’ve worked hard! Did you hear that trumpet player?” Jongdae asks. Jongin joins him in clean-up. “Those notes!”  
  
“Yixing was amazing,” says Jongin. He sets a chair down on a stack and imitates the snappy finger guns. “So cool.”  
  
“Here they come,” Baekhyun says, folding his jacket over one arm. Across the hall, the jazz members start to trickle back into the room.  
  
Jongdae returns to the table, picking up his own jacket and pulling it on. By the time he’s zipped himself up, Yixing’s walking out with one of the other members, a trombone player Jongdae’s pretty sure came to Yixing’s surprise party. Yixing smiles wider when he sees his friends waiting for him. “I’ll see you there, Taekwoon,” Yixing says with a wave. To his friends, he says, “I’m so glad you guys made it!”  
  
“You were so cool!” Jongin says. He imitates Yixing’s finger guns again.  
  
Yixing laughs and does them back at him. “Thanks.”  
  
“It was an amazing solo,” Jongdae says, taking a step forward. Yixing looks at him, smile softening. Jongdae ignores the fluttering in his stomach. “Your hard work paid off.”  
  
“Yeah!” Baekhyun claps one hand on the shoulder strap of Yixing’s backpack. “Was that live or did you record it before hand? You can tell us the truth.”  
  
“It was real,” Yixing laughs again, shaking his head. “I can’t believe this is my last night cafe.”  
  
Sehun and Chanyeol are among the next group to come back into the room, Sehun carrying his trumpet case and Chanyeol with his guitar. “There he is,” Sehun says. “We’re gonna drop our stuff off before heading out for burgers and stuff.”  
  
“You guys coming?” Chanyeol asks. Baekhyun takes the spot next to him, trying to help carry the guitar, but Chanyeol won’t give it up.  
  
“Yeah,” says Jongdae, nodding. Out of the corner of his eye, Yixing resettles the backpack strap on his shoulder. “Sounds like fun.”  
  
“I call shotgun seat!” Jongin says, prompting Sehun to argue with him about the rules of claiming car seats on their way out the door. Baekhyun and Chanyeol follow them, talking in low voices.  
  
Yixing sidles up beside Jongdae. “I’m glad you came,” Yixing says. “I hope you had fun.”  
  
“I did.” Jongdae grins at him. “I meant what I said earlier. You were amazing tonight.”  
  
“Thanks.”  
  
They pause in the doorway, Yixing hesitating like he has something more to say. Jongdae’s breath catches in his throat. He coughs. “Uh, do you have a jacket? It’s kind of chilly out there.”  
  
“Oh, whoops,” Yixing says. “I knew I forgot something.” He turns, jogging a few paces before stopping and looking back. “Wait for me?”  
  
“Okay, but hurry!”  
  
Yixing takes off, leaving Jongdae holding the door open and watching him go.


	16. October - The Showcase

In the geology lecture hall, Jongdae goes over his scantron sheet to check his answers and make sure he didn’t skip any questions. Satisfied with his work and eager to get out of the room, he collects his bag and jacket before inching his way out of the row. Yixing looks up as he passes, but neither of them say anything.  
  
At the front of the room, Jongdae deposits the test in one pile and his scantron in another. He isn’t the first one out of the room by any means, comfortably in the middle of the pack. Outside the lecture hall, he breathes easier. The test wasn’t too different from the study guide. He won’t get a perfect score, confident he mixed up diorite and andesite. Whatever. It’ll still be a good mark.  
  
Taking a seat on one of the benches near the bathrooms, Jongdae puts on his jacket and pulls out his phone. He turns it on, figuring he’ll wait for Yixing to get out before thinking about the exam anymore.  
  
Facebook’s a bust, someone on his timeline getting into an argument in the comments of a status update, so Jongdae exits out of the app and switches to Twitter. Baekhyun’s live-tweeting someone in a cape chasing after a dog on a skateboard. Much better.  
  
Jongdae looks up from the feed, which now has a photo of the chase on the quad, when hears someone coming down the hallway. He smiles when he sees Yixing. “Hey! How’d it go for you?” he asks, grabbing his bag when he stands.  
  
Yixing looks up, surprised. “You waited for me?”  
  
“Well, yeah,” Jongdae says. He hustles to Yixing. “How’d you do?”  
  
“A lot better than I thought.” Yixing falls in beside Jongdae as they head down the hallway, turning into the stairwell. “I think I mixed up the igneous rocks in the lab section.”  
  
“Me too,” Jongdae says. They begin the climb up from the basement lecture halls to ground level. “But besides that, good?”  
  
“Good.” Yixing chuckles. “Thanks for helping me prepare.”  
  
Jongdae shrugs. “Hey, no problem. I got to study, too.”  
  
“Yeah, but you didn’t have to.” They follow the curve of the stairs on the second landing. “What do you have next?”  
  
“Nothing until dinner time,” Jongdae says. “Then it’s three solid hours of class.”  
  
Yixing nods. “Right, I forgot. So I think I’m gonna grab something before my next class, since I’ve got the time.” The ground level’s pretty deserted with most people are in classes or taking midterms. Two students emerge from a quiet hall near the building entrance as Jongdae and Yixing head that direction. “Can I interest you in anything?”  
  
“I’ll pay for it myself, but yeah,” Jongdae says, nodding, “sound good to me.”  
  
Outside, leaves crunch under their feet as they head across campus. “I’m serious. Let me treat you.”  
  
“Yixing, if anyone’s treating anyone, it’s my turn to buy you coffee,” Jongdae says, bracing himself against a gust of wind.  
  
“Are you keeping score?” Yixing asks.  
  
Jongdae shrugs, chuckling at his feet. “Maybe I am.”  
  
“Hey, I have an idea,” Yixing says, turning in front of Jongdae and walking backwards, and Jongdae’s face-to-face with Yixing. His eyes shine with excitement, face spreading in a smile. The dimple in his cheek will be the death of Jongdae. “First one inside gets to pay!” Yixing takes off in a dead sprint, leaving Jongdae laughing as he struggles to catch up.  
  
\---  
  
Backstage at the showcase, Jongdae does his best not to freak out. Kyungsoo’s too sick with the flu to sing, so it’s up to Jongdae to make sure he’s got all Kyungsoo’s solos covered. Junmyeon’s past the point of stress, a bizarrely zen-like apparition keeping tabs on their remaining members from his spot by the door of their designated dressing room. Baekhyun, however, appears unperturbed by the situation. He uses his phone’s zoom function to check if he needs to tweeze any last few pesky hairs from between his eyebrows. Everyone else seems to have a normal level of pre-showcase nerves, applying light stage makeup and warming up.  
  
“Say hello for Snapchat,” Baekhyun says, leaning over with his phone on front-facing camera.  
  
Jongdae pulls the most stress-monster face he can manage. “How are you so calm?”  
  
“I dunno.” Baekhyun snaps the photo and sits back up. “We’ve rehearsed too much to fuck up, I guess.”  
  
“Maybe,” Jongdae says. “Your part hasn’t changed though. Unless you want to take Kyungsoo’s solo during the first medley?”  
  
Baekhyun shakes his head. “Nope, I don’t know it as well as you. You’re the best choice for this, Jongdae.”  
  
Jongdae takes a calming breath, breathing down to his belly. “You’re right. I can do this.” He starts again, from a few lines before the solo in their first medley.  
  
Seohyun stops in the room for a moment, palm on Junmyeon’s shoulder as she tells him something, and then she’s out the door. “We’re moving to the curtains in five,” Junmyeon says, projecting over the noise in the room.  
  
“Oh look!” Baekhyun shows Jongdae his phone, a picture of Jongin and Sehun out in the audience with their thumbs up. It disappears within a few seconds. “They came!”  
  
“I think that’s because Jongin’s roommate is here too,” Jongdae says.  
  
Baekhyun takes his phone back. “I wonder who else is here.”  
  
It’s obvious bait Jongdae knows better than to take. He shrugs and launches into the section before Kyungsoo’s solo during their second medley. He’s still anxious about the performance without Kyungsoo, but these precious few minutes spent preparing help him ease the storm of nerves.  
  
“Looks like Chanyeol’s in the front row.” Baekhyun takes a screenshot.  
  
Jongdae stops singing once he’s a few lines past Kyungsoo’s last solo. “That’s nice. How much time left until we’re supposed to go on?”  
  
“Yeah, I’m not sure, but look at this.” Baekhyun angles his phone again, this time to show off a picture of Chanyeol and Yixing leaning in together. Someone, probably Chanyeol, wrote a message of encouragement with the paint tool and gave Yixing a pair of bunny ears. The photo disappears. “You wanna send one back?”  
  
Jongdae falters, and the decision’s made when Junmyeon says, “Start heading over, everyone!”  
  
Through the curtains, Jongdae can see the group before them taking their bows to a smattering of applause. The stage goes dark, a cover for the previous group to exit and the next group to set up. Jongdae wants to look for Yixing in the front row but he keeps his eyes from straying. Then it’s bright stage lights in his eyes and the audience becomes shadow.  
  
There’s little in Jongdae’s experience that can compare with the thrill of performing. There’s new energy on stage, excitement galvanizing their performance. Even with the lineup and solo alterations coming in at the eleventh hour, the group does well. Jongdae almost forgets to come in during his own solo in the last quarter of the first medley, too concerned with covering Kyungsoo’s part. Someone’s flat during their second medley, but they nudge themselves back up in tune with everyone. Beyond those minor mistakes, Jongdae can’t hear anything catastrophic. The lights go off, they leave the stage, the last group of the night takes their place.  
  
After the show, Jongdae follows Baekhyun out into the audience. Most people are gone, ready to get their Thursday nights underway, but a few stay. Like Chanyeol, bearing a long, thin gift bag and a big smile. And Yixing, to his side, looking over the auditorium as people filter out.  
  
Baekhyun and Chanyeol embrace but Jongdae has a hard time looking anywhere besides Yixing once his eyes land on Jongdae. “You sang a lot tonight,” Yixing says, stepping forward.  
  
“Uh, yeah.” Jongdae rubs the back of his neck.  
  
“Does that have anything to do with Kyungsoo missing sociology this week?”  
  
Jongdae nods. “I didn’t realize he’s been sick so long. I hope he’s getting better.”  
  
“Me too,” says Yixing. Chanyeol presents Baekhyun with the gift bag. “Sorry, but I don’t have a bottle of champagne for you like Chanyeol.”  
  
“Yeah, how’d he even get that anyway?” Jongdae asks. They watch as Baekhyun peeks inside the bag before closing it abruptly and looking around the room. “Did you buy it for him?”  
  
“Yeah. It was Chanyeol’s idea,” Yixing says. “We just bought the cheap stuff.”  
  
Jongdae snorts. “If it’s bubbly and it’s alcohol, Baekhyun will like it.” He turns his head to look at Yixing, putting a hand on his arm. “Thanks for coming out tonight.”  
  
Yixing shrugs. “It was fun to see you sing.” He grins. “You sounded amazing, but I still think your lower register suits you better.”  
  
Heat rises in Jongdae’s cheeks. “Yeah, thanks. We’ll see what happens come caroling time.” He puts both hands in his pockets. “You know, that’s not an a cappella exclusive event.”  
  
“What?”  
  
“Caroling during finals. Anyone can join in if they can carry a tune.” Jongdae bumps against Yixing. “I think you should come with us.”  
  
Yixing bumps back. “I’ll think about it.”


	17. October - Halloween

All Saturday’s daylight Jongdae and Baekhyun spend sleeping, eating, and trying to put together last-minute Halloween costumes for Junmyeon’s last-minute costume party.  
  
“I could be a cat,” Baekhyun says, holding up a black turtleneck from the wreckage of clothes in front of their closet.  
  
Jongdae sifts through his own clothes. “No.”  
  
“A sexy cat.”  
  
“Baekhyun, you’ve already been a cat,” Jongdae says.  
  
“Then you be the sexy cat.” Baekhyun tosses the shirt at Jongdae’s face.  
  
Jongdae throws it back at him. “No. I want to be something funny.”  
  
“That would be funny.” Baekhyun drops the shirt to the ground and continues skimming through their closet.  
  
“Ha, ha.” Jongdae pulls out a white dress shirt by its hanger. “I could be butler or something.”  
  
“What if you were like, bachelor number 13 at a date auction?” Jongdae shrugs and puts the shirt back. “Maybe I’ll be bachelor number 13 at a date auction.”  
  
“But you’re not a bachelor.”  
  
“And it’s not a date auction,” Baekhyun says. “It’s a Halloween party.” He shrugs and turns away from their closet. “We should have come up with a plan weeks ago.”  
  
Jongdae reaches the end of his hangers. “This party is barely eighteen hours old. If you remember, we had a plan to rent a car to drive to a haunted house, but someone chickened out.”  
  
“Listen to me,” Baekhyun says, whirling around to point an accusatory finger at Jongdae. “Your idea was a horrible one and Junmyeon is our savior.”  
  
It’s pointless to argue when Baekhyun takes that tone, so Jongdae groans until Baekhyun throws a pillow at him and tells him to stop. Jongdae catches the pillow and throws it back. “What if we were M&Ms?”  
  
“We don’t have the costumes.”  
  
“Not the round ones, no,” says Jongdae. “We could get some shirts and put the letter M on them.”  
  
Baekhyun frowns. “It’s M&M on the candy, not just an M.”  
  
“I’m pretty sure it’s just one.”  
  
“That makes no sense.”  
  
“Whatever. We’ll Google it.” Jongdae waves his arm. “What do you think?”  
  
Baekhyun taps his chin. “You know, if we get Chanyeol and Yixing in on this, it just might work.”  
  
One trip to the store later and they find themselves with solid color T-shirts, fabric markers, and a mixed bag of candy for good measure.  
  
“See, I told you it was just one M,” Jongdae says, ripping open a fun-size pack of the candy and pooling a few in the palm of his hand. “It isn’t big enough for two.”  
  
Baekhyun rolls his eyes as he clears a space on their floor. “Pride comes before a fall.” He flattens his red shirt on the ground and pulls the black fabric marker out of the case. “Bring the bag over here so I can get the shape right.”  
  
“We should wait for Yixing to get here,” Jongdae says. “He’s good at drawing.” Jongdae drops the bag in front of Baekhyun, who stops flattening the shirt and stares at him. “Don’t look at me like that! It’s true.”  
  
“You think I’m gonna screw this up?” Baekhyun asks. “I’ll do my own, and if you want Yixing to do yours, that’s your own business.”  
  
Jongdae groans and steps around Baekhyun’s work area. “The M is supposed to be white, you know,” Jongdae says, taking refuge on his bed with his candy.  
  
“We don’t have a white fabric marker, and besides, the black will show up better on all the shirts.”  
  
“I’m just saying.”  
  
Baekhyun manages to finish his shirt and Chanyeol’s before their guests arrive. “Woah, these look way better than I thought,” Chanyeol says, lifting up the yellow shirt from its spot draped over Baekhyun’s desk chair. “Nice. Is this one mine?”  
  
“Yep. You’re the yellow M&M, I’m the red one, Jongdae’s the orange one, and Yixing’s blue.” Baekhyun looks at Yixing apologetically. “I haven’t finished yours yet.”  
  
“That’s fine. I can do it,” Yixing says, picking up folded the blue shirt from Jongdae’s desk. “Is mine the last one that needs a letter?”  
  
“No,” Baekhyun says, rolling his eyes to Jongdae. “Orange still needs it, too.”  
  
Yixing nods and gets to work on his own shirt, finding a spot for himself on the floor. The last hour before the party passes by with mouthfuls of candy and the passing around of Chanyeol’s flask of Yixing’s alcohol. Before they leave, Yixing makes Jongdae hold steady while he finishes coloring in a spot on his M, a spot Jongdae’s pretty sure doesn’t exist, but he stills under Yixing’s hands all the same.  
  
Junmyeon’s apartment looks like someone upturned a Party City clearance bin and threw only the Halloween decorations at random places on the walls. They let themselves in, dropping their coats on the pile accumulating on Junmyeon’s bed.  
  
“You guys made it!” Junmyeon says when he sees them. There’s a fake parrot on his shoulder, and fake facial hair circling his mouth. Jongdae can’t bear to look at the rest of him.  
  
Baekhyun takes one look at Junmyeon and bursts out laughing. “You’re a fucking pirate!”  
  
“Aye, matey.” Junmyeon squints one eye and growls at them. “T’would appear we’ve got ourselves a troupe of walkin’, talkin’ M&Ms aboard my pirate ship.” Chanyeol fights a fit of laughter. “Scallywags, the lot o’ ye.”  
  
“How much have you had to drink?” Yixing asks, giggling.  
  
Junmyeon looks at his cup, then back at Yixing. “I got no fucking clue. I just drink whatever Sehun gives me.”  
  
“And on that note,” Jongdae says, sidestepping Junmyeon, “I’m off to find me a drink.”  
  
In the kitchen, Jongdae finds a foil-wrapped Sehun brewing another lethal round of punch in a giant pumpkin-shaped bowl. “And what are you supposed to be?”  
  
“I’m a burrito,” Sehun says. “Jongin and I were already planning on dressing up for a free burrito when Junmyeon texted us about the party.” He looks Jongdae up and down. “You want punch?”  
  
“Yeah.” Jongdae watches as Sehun ladles the neon yellow mix into a plastic cup. “That’s not your usual.”  
  
Sehun hands him the drink. “Nope.”  
  
“What’s in it?” Jongdae asks, taking inventory of the bottles on the counter as he sips.  
  
“Oh, you know,” Sehun puts the ladle on a paper towel beside the punch bowl. “A bottle of this, a bottle of that. Tonic water to make it glow under the blacklights.”  
  
He can’t taste the alcohol, but the tonic cuts through. “Blacklights?”  
  
Sehun crosses his arms and leans against the counter. “You’ll wanna stick around for that part of the night.” He nods his head to one side. “Junmyeon’s neighbors are out of town this weekend.” Seungwan edges her way into the kitchen, her whole face and neck painted pale blue. Part of her white dress is ribcage, and she’s wearing one sleeve of a skeleton suit. It’s an impressive costume, topped with a tattered gauzy bride’s veil and tiara of blue flowers. “Holy shit.”  
  
“I really like Halloween,” she says, a bit sheepish.  
  
Jongdae smiles. “It’s great! You came prepared. And I bet you won’t find another person here or on campus with that costume.”  
  
“That’s true.” Seungwan looks between Sehun and the punch. “Is there something besides…?”  
  
“Get her a beer, Sehun,” Jongdae says. “Be a gentleman.”  
  
“I am a gentleman,” he says, but ducks into the fridge for an unopened can of cheap beer all the same.  
  
Jongdae slips past her, letting her take his spot in the kitchen before leaving to mingle with other party guests. Most people at least made an attempt at a costume, but there are a few people who didn’t try at all. He feels better about his less involved costume.  
  
For a party slapped together hours before it started, it’s a good one. Once he finishes his punch, Jongdae loses a few hours around the pong table. He plays well enough some games and embarrasses his team during others, most notably when he tries a bounce toss that lands in his team’s own cups. When he’s not playing, he drinks by the tableside and watches the game. Yixing has a few good rounds, though they never play with or against each other.  
  
The game becomes functionally impossible when Junmyeon switches off the normal lights in favor of the blacklights. Not even the glow of the punch is enough to properly illuminate the cups. The table returns home, pushed to one side of the main room and cleared of the pong set-up.  
  
Meanwhile, Jongdae finds himself under Yixing’s arm, clinging to his waist while Jongdae drinks more punch he doesn’t need. “You should have been there,” Yixing’s saying to Jongin, who glows fluorescent under the blacklights. “Since Kyungsoo’s so sick, Jongdae had to sing all his parts.”  
  
“I was there,” Jongin says. “I made Sehun go with me.”  
  
“Oh,” Yixing says. He laughs a little bit, leaning on Jongdae as he does. Jongdae squeezes his hip on instinct. “So you heard him.”  
  
Jongin looks between them, confused. “Yeah.”  
  
“He did so well, right?” Yixing says, slurring his words a bit. He turns to Jongdae, pressing his forehead to Jongdae’s hair. “You’re like, superstar.”  
  
“Jongin, I think he needs a few cups of water,” Jongdae says, fighting a smile from the drunk compliments. His hand squeezes Yixing’s side again of its own accord.  
  
Yixing shakes his head. “No, I’m serious!”  
  
“Do you need any help getting him to the kitchen?” Jongin asks.  
  
Jongdae shakes his head. “I’ve got him.” He finishes the rest of his punch in one swallow before wrapping both arms around Yixing. “Come on,” he says, “let’s get you in a better place before you go home.”  
  
They begin the process of winding through people on their way to Junmyeon’s table. “Are you taking me home?” Yixing asks, nose bumping against Jongdae’s ear.  
  
“You’re too drunk,” Jongdae says, pulling Yixing along. It’s hard to see where he’s going, shadows of bodies and neon teeth shifting under the blacklights. “And I’m too drunk.”  
  
Yixing chuckles, a contagious phenomenon that spreads to Jongdae. He leans his forehead against Jongdae’s head. “You take good care of me.”  
  
“I try.”  
  
At the dining table, Jongdae procures an empty seat for Yixing and makes him sit in it. By the time Jongdae returns with water, Yixing’s leaning both elbows on the kitchen table, head propped up in one hand. “Jongdae, what’s that?”  
  
“This is for you,” Jongdae says, wrapping Yixing’s hands around the cup. “Drink it.”  
  
Yixing chugs it and Jongdae scrambles for a pitcher. After the fourth cup of water, Yixing slows down. “I wanna go home,” Yixing whines, head lolling against Jongdae’s shoulder. His fingers curl in the front of Jongdae’s shirt. “It’s too loud here.”  
  
Jongdae looks up to see Baekhyun and Sehun watching him from across the table. Baekhyun, eyebrows raised, mouth pulled in a tight-lipped smile, says nothing. Sehun asks, “Is he okay?”  
  
“He’ll be fine,” Jongdae says. “Too much, too fast.” Jongdae slings Yixing’s arm over his shoulder and helps him up. “I’m gonna make sure he gets home safe.”  
  
“Shouldn’t Chanyeol help?” Sehun looks around the vicinity for Chanyeol, though not inconveniencing himself beyond a quick turn of his head.  
  
Baekhyun taps Sehun’s chest twice with his knuckle. “They’ll be fine.”  
  
“Yixing really doesn’t look so good,” Sehun says. “Junmyeon will let him stay over. Just put him in the bedroom with a trash can and come take another shot, Jongdae.”  
  
The idea of leaving Yixing alone makes Jongdae tighten his grip. “No,” Jongdae says, firmly. “You know we make sure you get home safe when you’re as far gone as he is.”  
  
“Jongdae, I’m right here,” Yixing says. He’s slurring less. “I’m not gone, I’m right here.”  
  
“I know.” He resettles Yixing’s weight across his shoulders. “Come on.” Jongdae guides Yixing, half-carrying him to Junmyeon’s bedroom. Yixing takes a detour to the bathroom while Jongdae finds their jackets, watching Yixing pull his on once he exits.  
  
Yixing sobers up impressively on the way back to his dorm, but Jongdae walks him to his room to make sure he doesn’t pass out on the couch on his floor’s common area. “Jongdae, I can do this part on my own,” Yixing says, fishing in his pockets for his room key and fitting it to the door with some difficulty.  
  
Once inside, Yixing flips the lights on and makes a beeline for his bed, kicking his shoes off along the way. Jongdae scans the room, grabbing a big cup off Chanyeol’s desk. “I’m gonna get you more water, and then I’ll be back, okay?”  
  
“You’re funny,” says Yixing as he sheds his jacket Jongdae bites his lip and retreats down the hall, filling the cup with filtered water. Yixing’s door is unlocked, so Jongdae locks it after he lets himself back in.  
  
Laying on his bed, Yixing’s still dressed in his last-minute M&Ms costume, one sock on, one sock off. He’s pulled his rabbit plushie in place of his pillow, which he’s pushed to one side. “Yixing, will you drink this water for me before I leave?” Jongdae asks, approaching the bed. Yixing groans and rolls over, burying his head against the stuffed toy. “Come on, one last cup of water and you can pass out.”  
  
With another groan, Yixing pushes himself to sitting. “I’m fine,” he says. Jongdae sits beside him on the bed, hesitant to offer him the cup of water until Yixing reaches for it. He drinks it, gulp after gulp, until it’s gone.  
  
“Thank you,” Jongdae says, taking the cup back and leaning over to put it on Yixing’s nightstand. Yixing lays back down, eyes closed. Jongdae pats his knee. “I’m going to go now.”  
  
Yixing’s hand snakes out to grab Jongdae’s wrist. “Stay.”  
  
“Yixing—”  
  
“Just for a little bit.” Yixing cracks open his eyes. “You’re too drunk to get it up anyway.”  
  
Jongdae laughs. “Me?”  
  
“Mm.” Yixing closes his eyes again. “You.”  
  
“Oh, please. You’re one bedtime story away from dreamland.”  
  
Yixing tugs Jongdae by the wrist, and Jongdae gives in, swinging his legs up on the bed and laying down beside Yixing. “Are you gonna tell me a story, Jongdae?”  
  
Jongdae takes Yixing’s pillow, since Yixing doesn’t seem keen on making use of it. “I will if you want me to,” he says, amused. Yixing pulls him closer, and Jongdae drapes an arm over Yixing’s chest. “Do you want me to tell you a story?”  
  
“No,” says Yixing, opening his eyes. They’re not quite on an equal eye-level, Yixing a little lower on the bed. Jongdae’s eyes track the flash of his pink tongue as he licks his lips. He turns his head up, shifting closer in a slow progress until Jongdae’s eyes close before they cross. Yixing speaks the words against Jongdae’s lips. “I want you to kiss me, but you’re being kind of dense about it.” He shifts back, putting just enough space to breathe.  
  
One breath is all Jongdae takes before bridging the gap. Mouths pressing against one another, their legs tangle as they pull each other closer. Yixing drags his fingers from Jongdae’s waist up his back, touching each bump of his spine. Jongdae shivers under his touch, retaliating with a nip at Yixing’s lower lip. Jongdae realizes they’re both kind of smiling as chaste, lazy kisses unwind between them, and if death is a kiss, Yixing is the reaper.  
  
They stop kissing the way conversation trails off when it gets late enough during a slumber party, with slow reprisals that feel more like dreams than reality. Nestling himself beneath Jongdae’s chin, Yixing succumbs to the pull of sleep. Jongdae holds him in his arms and wonders if they’ll both remember this come morning.


	18. November - Aftermath

Jongdae drops his bag to the ground, freeing up Yixing’s seat. “You’re late,” he says, voice quiet so as not to disturb the lecture already in progress.  
  
“My last class ran long,” Yixing says, unzipping his jacket and getting out his notebook in record time. “Have they passed back the grades from the midterm?”  
  
“Not yet.”  
  
Yixing nods. “Good.” He turns his focus to the professor, and Jongdae feels left hanging.  
  
Jongdae bites his lip. They never really talked about what happened, or what didn’t happen, after Junmyeon’s Halloween party. Jongdae woke up to the lights still on and the sun still down and Yixing still curled against him, the even rise and fall of Yixing’s chest under his palm like a peaceful heartbeat. Head throbbing but memory clear, Jongdae pulled the covers over Yixing before slipping out of his dorm.  
  
Lecture drags on, Jongdae taking notes on unfamiliar concepts and driving the nagging, useless anxiety from his mind. Impatience takes its place, eager to see his midterm grade, though he manages to pay attention for most of class.  
  
He scoots to the edge of his seat when he sees their TA pulling stacks and stacks of paper from their messenger bag, arranging them in piles on tables. Graded midterms, grouped in alphabetical order, almost ready for the taking. The room shifts with restless energy, and the professor soldiers through the last couple slides as though oblivious to the change of the collective focus.  
  
People crowd the aisles in a mad dash to the front after the professor explains the layout of the midterms, eager to get their grade and leave. Jongdae loses Yixing in the shuffle. He finds his exam and steps to one side before retreating into the hallway with the slower trickle of students.  
  
Outside, he stands to one side of the hall and checks the second to last page for the mark in red ink. It’s not a perfect score, but he did about as well as he expected. When he puts his exam in his bag, Yixing’s stepping out of the lecture room with a paper in one hand and his bag in the other, looking around the hallway until his eyes land on Jongdae. “There you are!” he says as Jongdae approaches him. “How’d you do?”  
  
“Pretty well,” Jongdae says. “You?”  
  
Yixing nods his head, bobbing it from side to side. “Yeah, me too.” Another group of students comes through the door, so Yixing steps closer to the wall. Jongdae follows. “I definitely need a better lab partner. That section killed me.” He sets his bag on the ground between his feet, unzipping it to shove his paper inside. “But other than that, it was good. Those flashcards you made helped so much.”  
  
A twinge of pride makes Jongdae smile. “I’m glad to hear it. Maybe we should study that way for the final exam, too.”  
  
Yixing nods. He zips his bag up and sticks his hand through one of the arm loops. “Yeah, that’d be really useful.” With the backpack settled over Yixing’s shoulder, they head for the stairs. “Hey, I have a question for you.”  
  
“Sure,” Jongdae says, turning his head to watch Yixing’s face. “What is it?”  
  
They continue walking while Yixing hesitates. “When I woke up, you…what time did you leave?”  
  
Jongdae looks away to a bulletin board on the far wall, a mismatch of bright flyers. “I think it was before six in the morning.”  
  
“Oh,” is all Yixing says. Something shifts, invisible, untouchable, spreading like the first ripple in a glassy pond after a swimmer dips in their toes. They reach the foot of the staircase in its silent aftermath.  
  
Jongdae changes the subject.


	19. November - Hot Chocolate

Standing in the aisle of the corner store, Jongdae debates between hot tea bags and instant hot chocolate. It shouldn’t be much of a contest, but the herbal tea is on sale and cheaper than the mix. He pulls off one of his gloves and reaches for his phone, texting Baekhyun for his input.  
  
While he waits for his roommate to text him back, he wanders around the store. There’s remnants of orange and black decorations in the clearance bin at the end of the seasonal aisle. A quarter of the aisle’s shelving now boast a few harvest-themed centerpieces, turkey toys of different shapes and sizes, and a couple stacks of cornucopia-emblazoned greeting cards. Browsing the patterned gift wraps, he passes a small section of blue and silver stocked with small menorahs, dreidels, and chocolate coins wrapped in gold foil. The rest of the lane is a winter wonderland with a heavy slant: white fairy lights, Santa Claus figurines that wobble and sing at the press of a button, packs of candy canes, boxed miniature Christmas trees with and without LED-lit branches.  
  
The in-store music hasn’t switched over to Christmas songs quite yet. Jongdae wonders how long it will take before that happens. A few days, perhaps?  
  
His phone buzzes.  
  
baekhyun [09:12PM]:  
Uhhh tea?  
  
baekhyun [09:12PM]:  
No wait I change my mind ok hot chocolate  
  
Jongdae turns back toward the teas and chocolate mixes section. While at the self-service check-out, another text comes in.  
  
baekhyun [09:16PM]:  
Yixing’s here too I’ll ask him what he wants  
  
Smiling fondly, Jongdae shakes his head and sticks his receipt in the bag alongside the box.  
  
jongdae [09:17PM]:  
I hope he wants hot chocolate  
  
He pulls on his gloves and flips up his hood, bracing himself for the early November cold outside. Returning to his dorm at a brisk pace, the wind bites at his nose. He hopes this is just an early cold spell and not a sign of a bitter winter. The lobby heat is on full blast, or near enough, and he lets himself unclench from the cold while he waits for the elevator to take him up to his floor.  
  
As promised, Yixing and Baekhyun look up when he gets in. They’re side-by-side on Baekhyun’s bed, watching something on Baekhyun’s laptop. Jongdae dumps the bag on his desk chair. “Hey, why not use the TV?” Jongdae asks. He takes his gloves off, putting them in their usual pocket of his coat.  
  
“It’s just us two,” Baekhyun says. “Didn’t make sense.” He straightens, trying to see the plastic bag. “Did you get the kind with the little marshmallows?”  
  
Jongdae takes his coat and drapes it across the back of his chair. “Of course.” With a cackle of glee, Baekhyun slides the laptop into Yixing’s lap before crawling down to the edge of the bed. Kicking off his shoes, Jongdae says, “I don’t think we have enough mugs if everyone wants some.”  
  
“You guys can share,” Baekhyun says. He looks at Jongdae. “I’m sure it won’t be an issue.” Jongdae’s mouth becomes a thin, tight line.  
  
Yixing shrugs, pausing the show with the click of a button. “I don’t really need a whole mug.”  
  
“No, no,” Baekhyun says. “See? Jongdae doesn’t mind.”  
  
Ignoring Baekhyun, Jongdae addresses Yixing instead. “You can have the first cup, and then I’ll have mine. It’s fine.”  
  
“Jongdae, it’s okay,” he says. “We’ve…we can share a drink.”  
  
Midway through putting on slippers to protect his feet from the cold dormitory floor, Baekhyun asks, “What were you gonna say?”  
  
Jongdae looks at Baekhyun, puzzled. He opens the top of the box and pulls out an instant hot chocolate packet.  
  
“Uh,” says Yixing, eyes blinking open wide and looking from Baekhyun to Jongdae. “What?”  
  
Baekhyun turns, trying to convey something to Jongdae with just a look, but it’s useless.  
  
“Baekhyun, just spit it out,” Jongdae says, grabbing one of their two mugs on top of the microwave.  
  
Both feet shod with slippers, Baekhyun sighs. “Fine.” He stands and stretches. “It’s a farce if I pretend I don’t know anyway.”  
  
“You’re not making any sense, you realize that, right?” says Jongdae. Taking a bottle of water from the fridge, he fills the mug before sticking it in the microwave. He guesses this is Baekhyun’s way of hinting to Yixing that he knows about their agreement. It’s almost surprising this kind of conversation hasn’t happened between the two of them before, in private. Maybe it just never came up.  
  
“You’re frustrating me on purpose,” Baekhyun says. Jongdae skirts around Baekhyun to sit on the edge of his bed as he takes off his shoes. “Whatever! It was inane. It doesn’t even matter anymore.”  
  
“Okay,” Jongdae says, shoes dropping to the floor one after the other. “That one in the microwave is yours.” He flops back on his bed.  
  
The shuffling of Baekhyun’s slippers tracks away from the beds, and Jongdae assumes he’s going to watch the mug rotate. “You only took out one packet?”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
Baekhyun scoffs and shuffles to Jongdae’s desk to grab another. “One packet is useless. You gotta use two packets for the best flavor.”  
  
“I’m looking out for your cavities,” Jongdae says, closing his eyes and picking up the quiet tapping of computer keys from a few feet away. He wonders what Yixing’s doing now that they’ve paused their streaming video. “Plus, two packets is so wasteful.”  
  
“They should make half-packets,” says Baekhyun. “That’d be smart.”  
  
Someone’s phone chirps, Baekhyun’s by the alert tone. “Chanyeol’s texting you,” says Yixing.  
  
“I’ll reply to him later.”  
  
Jongdae asks, “Is it a dick pic?”  
  
“No,” says Yixing. “Thankfully.” He hums in thought. “He says he’s done practicing guitar and wants to know what you’re up to tonight. Oh, I can answer that one for you.” Baekhyun squawks, and Jongdae laughs at the furious pitter-pattering of slippers moving across the floor. “I’m telling him that you’re too busy hanging out with me instead.”  
  
“Give me that!”  
  
The sounds of the nearby scuffle make Jongdae laugh again. “Why, did you want to text him something else?” asks Yixing.  
  
“Yixing, come on.”  
  
“You do, don’t you?”  
  
“Just give it to me!”  
  
A long-suffering sigh. “Fine, here.”  
  
Scuffle ceases and the shuffle of Baekhyun’s slippers retreats towards the beeping microwave. “Oh my god, I need to change my passcode.”  
  
“Are you abandoning me, Baekhyun? I’m hurt.”  
  
Grinning, Jongdae can’t resist butting in. “Baekhyun, don’t be rude to our guest.”  
  
“Our guest?” Baekhyun says. “I invited him over in the first place!”  
  
“And now you’re leaving him here to get some.” Jongdae clucks his tongue. “Where are your manners?”  
  
The rhythmic clinking of silverware against the inside of a mug replaces the chiming microwave. “Listen, I could kick you guys out and invite Chanyeol over. That’d be real rude of me.”  
  
Jongdae sits up, opening his eyes. “You wouldn’t.”  
  
“I get it now,” Yixing says with some over-exaggerated sniffling. “It’s obvious you don’t love me as much as you say.”  
  
“Oh, please.” Baekhyun blows into his hot chocolate before taking a sip, giving Jongdae and Yixing a chance to exchange devious looks.  
  
Baekhyun’s phone chirps again. “Is that Chanyeol, coming to pick you up or kick us out?” Jongdae asks, sweet as can be. Baekhyun squints at him over the steaming mug before turning his attention to his screen.  
  
“I knew it!” Yixing says, shifting the laptop off his lap and on Baekhyun’s bed. He clutches his chest as if struck through the heart. “I could never fill the Chanyeol-shaped hole in your delicate flower of a heart.”  
  
Jongdae wheezes, rocking forward. “The ultimate betrayal!”  
  
“Oh my fucking god, you guys.”  
  
Yixing raises up his other hand to stay Baekhyun. “No, no,” he says, shaking his head, “I don’t want to hear any more of your intricate, beautiful lies.”  
  
“Who are you right now?” Baekhyun asks, starting to giggle, and Jongdae’s beginning to wonder the same thing.  
  
“Go to him.” Yixing points with one hand to the door. “Fill the void with the right key. Unlock your heart.” He heaves a melodramatic sob. “Unlock your butt for him and find happiness.”  
  
If Baekhyun had been drinking hot chocolate, Jongdae thinks it would have looked like Jackson Pollack had started decorating the dorm. His face hurts from laughing. Half-laughing, half-crying, Baekhyun’s face slowly turns pink. Yixing looks immensely proud of himself.  
  
Baekhyun sets his mug down on his desk, slowly regaining his composure. “Well on that note, I guess I’m leaving,” Baekhyun says. “Yixing, we can watch the next couple episodes tomorrow, if you still want.”  
  
“I do,” Yixing says. “But don’t even think about running on me again tomorrow.”  
  
“Deal. I’m all yours until we get to season two.” He starts rummaging around for his shoes.  
  
Jongdae blinks in surprise. “Wait, you’re really leaving?”  
  
“Well, yeah,” Baekhyun says. “Isn’t that what all this teasing is about?” He looks from Jongdae, to Yixing, and back to Jongdae. “Unless you’d rather leave, in which case, hurry up.”  
  
“Absolutely not,” Jongdae says. “Nope. Remember when you kicked me out of the room our first night here?”  
  
“No,” says Baekhyun, winding a scarf around his neck.  
  
“Well, I do.” Yixing snickers which makes Jongdae grin. “I’m calling in my favor.”  
  
With a sigh, Baekhyun shrugs on his coat. “Didn’t you already use that up?”  
  
“When?”  
  
“Nevermind.” He zips his jacket and grabs his keys from his desk. “I’ll see you guys tomorrow.”  
  
Pocketing his phone, Baekhyun leaves, Jongdae gaping after him. “I can’t believe he actually left you to go hook up with your roommate.”  
  
“I kind of figured it was going to happen.”  
  
“Oh.” Jongdae looks at Yixing, facing him like a mirror image sitting on the edge of Baekhyun’s bed. “Really?” Yixing shrugs. “Oh,” Jongdae says again, lamely. Yixing watches him and says nothing. Jongdae shifts on the bed. “Uh, what show were you guys starting?”  
  
“Grey’s Anatomy,” Yixing says. “Baekhyun thinks I’d like it.”  
  
Jongdae nods. “Baekhyun’s probably right.”  
  
“Do you wanna watch it with me?”  
  
“Not right now,” Jongdae says. He scoots forward on his bed. “But, I wouldn’t mind doing something else with you.”  
  
It sounds clumsy to Jongdae’s ears, like a line from a cheap porno, but Yixing’s eyes light up with mischief anyway. “Is that so?”  
  
He nods. “That’s right.”  
  
“What if I don’t wanna do that something else with you?”  
  
Jongdae shrugs one shoulder. “Then we can do another something else.” His gaze finds Yixing’s mouth, then his eyes. “Anything, besides Baekhyun’s show.”  
  
Yixing snorts. “What did you have in mind?”  
  
So Jongdae reaches out, grabbing Yixing by the wrist and pulling him forward until Yixing’s standing over his thighs and Jongdae’s sitting on his bed. He puts Yixing’s hands on his shoulders, wraps his arms around Yixing’s hips, and smiles up at him. “A little of that,” Jongdae says. Eye-level with Yixing’s belly, Jongdae presses his forehead against it. “A little of this.” He slowly moves his head down toward Yixing’s hips, stopping before the strain on his neck becomes uncomfortable.  
  
Yixing’s fingers wind into Jongdae’s hair, tilting his head up. “That could be nice.” One knee on the bed, then the other, and Yixing settles himself on Jongdae’s lap. “Maybe I do.”  
  
“Do what?”  
  
“A little of this,” Yixing reaches his thumb to swipe at Jongdae’s lip. “And a little of that.” He rolls his hips and grinds against Jongdae. His own body reacts without Jongdae bidding it, tilting into the motion, fingers gripping the seat of Yixing’s pants.  
  
Jongdae turns his head in Yixing’s hands. “I like yes and no.” He kisses Yixing’s palm. “Maybe doesn’t count.”  
  
With a snicker, Yixing pulls Jongdae to face him again. “Yes.” Jongdae lets his eyes flutter closed.  
  
Yixing leans in, tilting Jongdae’s face to one side and sealing their mouths together. He captures Jongdae’s upper lip between his teeth and Jongdae gives in to the excitement fluttering in his chest. Yixing kisses him like he is unbreakable, teeth and tongue and fingers aggressive in their affection. Jongdae gives himself up to the flick of Yixing’s tongue, the jerk of his hips.  
  
Hands racing up Yixing’s back, Jongdae skims Yixing’s shirt from his body, separating temporarily to toss it aside. Jongdae rakes his hands down the skin of Yixing’s back, scratching him, making him arch his back with a gasp.  
  
“Shit,” Yixing says. His lips shine, slick from kissing, and he comes back for more, leading with the tip of his tongue into Jongdae’s mouth. Jongdae scratches up his back just to feel Yixing shiver and groan against his mouth.  
  
Glorious minutes pass by in Yixing’s arms, teasing each other bit by bit. Once he’s freed Jongdae from his shirt, Yixing presses Jongdae back against his bed.  
  
They pause to watch each other, smiling for the simple pleasure of being alone in each other’s company. Jongdae sighs when Yixing trails his hand down his chest, laughs at the tweak of his nipple. He floats with this playful touching, lighthearted and free and riding high. Amongst it all, he’s taken by the unguarded look of soft affection playing across Yixing’s features. It’s enough to unleash a small bubble of emotion, flickering from the depths of Jongdae’s mind as it floats to the surface. Jongdae feels that first hairline crack in the carefully built dam around unacceptable feelings he didn't want to admit were there in the first place.  
  
Yixing rolls off him to the bed beside him, and Jongdae takes that as good an invitation as any to join him laying on the bed. But first, pants.  
  
Finding the zipper on Yixing’s jeans is almost like muscle memory. The slide of metal teeth and the rustle of fabric prelude the whump when the pants hit the floor. Jongdae nips at his belly, grinning when Yixing laughs. He latches his mouth near Yixing’s hip and sucks, scraping his teeth to leave a mark and specifically not touching Yixing’s hardening cock. No matter how much Yixing angles his hips or arches against the bed.  
  
Jongdae leaves two more for good measure, soothing each dark red mark with a kiss and a swipe of his tongue before moving on to the next. Yixing’s belly rises and falls with each breath. He groans when Jongdae wraps his tongue around the base of Yixing’s dick, a quick lick before he moves to Yixing’s other hip to suck bruises there as well.  
  
When he finishes, Jongdae crawls halfway up Yixing’s torso, kissing his way over Yixing’s skin. He stops to lave attention over Yixing’s nipples, mouthing at one while his hand teases the other. One of Yixing’s hands winds into Jongdae’s hair. Jongdae doesn't stop until he’s satisfied with the way Yixing begs for his mouth to return elsewhere. His voice cracks on the word ‘yes’ when Jongdae slips his hand to Yixing’s groin and gives him a teasing stroke.  
  
With a satisfied smirk, Jongdae positions himself over Yixing’s cock. “Like this?” Jongdae says before grabbing the top of the shaft. Yixing catches his bottom lip between his teeth, pressing his hips hips up. Jongdae lets him, his hand tight as Yixing thrusts himself into Jongdae’s fist. “Look at you go.”  
  
Hips returning to the bed, Yixing says, “I want it.”  
  
Jongdae ducks his head between Yixing’s legs, tracing the curve of one ball with his tongue. Yixing says something under his breath Jongdae can’t make out, instead shifting his attention to the woefully under-licked sac and giving it the attention it deserves. The attention Jongdae knows Yixing likes. He takes one into his mouth, letting the flat of his tongue curl around it in caress before switching to the other and applying the same treatment. With his mouth full, Jongdae uses his hands to stroke Yixing’s shaft. Yixing whispers Jongdae’s name like a prayer to a lost god, fingers scrabbling for the sheets when Jongdae takes both balls into his mouth and squeezes the base of his erection.  
  
When Jongdae moves his mouth out from down between Yixing’s legs, he reapplies it to the head of Yixing’s dick, leading with his tongue. He sinks his mouth halfway down Yixing’s shaft, his hand meeting his lips halfway. He starts fast from the beginning, not forceful enough to bruise. Each stroke he works his mouth further down, sucking tight on the pull up. He doesn't spend much time on the head until Yixing’s cock almost hits the back of his throat, then he pulls back to lick at the head.  
  
Yixing shifts on the bed, sitting up to watch him work. Jongdae resists meeting his eyes and keeps his focus on Yixing’s hips, the hands fisted in his sheets, the way Jongdae’s name rolls from Yixing’s mouth between little groans of pleasure. Each noise, each unrestrained jerk of Yixing’s body feels like a private gift, something to share between the two of them alone.  
  
Content to bring Yixing to completion with solely the application of his mouth, Jongdae resists the initial tug in his hair. But Jongdae finds it difficult to resist Yixing for too long, meeting Yixing’s eyes while dragging his tongue up Yixing’s shaft. “You are getting way too good at that,” Yixing says with a fond laugh.  
  
“Yet you want me to stop.” Jongdae squeezes Yixing dick with a stroke of his hand. “Or do you want me to keep going? You know, I like when you come in my mouth.”  
  
“Is that right?” Yixing pushes Jongdae’s bangs back from his forehead before letting them fall forward again.  
  
Jongdae hums, dipping his head to taste the bright head of Yixing’s cock. “That’s right.” Yixing swallows thickly when Jongdae takes another lick. “I love it when you come.”  
  
Yixing wraps a hand around Jongdae’s upper arm, tugging him closer, and Jongdae relinquishes his grip in favor of crawling toward him. Yixing's fingers weave through the back of his hair as Jongdae nears his face. “You love to make me come?” Yixing says, amused. Their noses bump together when Jongdae tries to lean in for a kiss. “I love to watch you do it.” Yixing tilts his head, a soft puff of air buffering Jongdae's mouth. “And I love to make you come, too.”  
  
Their lips meet with Jongdae’s stretched in a smile. Either Yixing pulls Jongdae down on top of him or Jongdae bears Yixing back to the mattress, but Jongdae winds up straddling Yixing’s bare lap as their tongues slide together.  
  
Yixing’s fingers find his pants, disposing of them just enough to draw his dick into the open. Jongdae’s cock curves up toward his belly, and Yixing strokes it with a tight fist and snappy wrist. Groaning, Jongdae leans his forehead to one side of Yixing’s face. Yixing presses eager, wet kisses to his neck. He works Jongdae up into a frenzy with his firm, quick strokes. Jongdae’s stomach swoops whenever he rolls his hand over the tip. Each touch of Yixing’s skin against Jongdae’s own sends the tension in his body spiraling higher, twisting Jongdae like a thread until, gasping against Yixing’s mouth, Jongdae comes. He spills out in short but powerful bursts that set every nerve in his body alight.  
  
Lips against his neck, Yixing kissing along his jaw, guide Jongdae back from that high. Yixing rubs his thighs and his lower back until Jongdae sits up, reveling in post-orgasm warmth. Lying below him on the bed, Yixing beams with cheeks tinged pink and Jongdae’s cum painting white streaks across his belly. Grinning like he’s the one who came, like his dick isn’t still flushed and hard.  
  
“I should time you, one day,” Jongdae says, tongue rolling lazily around the words. “How fast you can get me off.” Yixing rests one hand behind his head and laughs. The lop-sided grin prompts Jongdae to smile back. “I’m serious.”  
  
Moving one hand from its spot rubbing Jongdae’s thigh to squeeze his soft cock again, Yixing asks, “How about right now?”  
  
“Fucking shit.” Jongdae jolts forward with a gasp. “Not now, oh my god.” Yixing giggles again, releasing Jongdae’s cock to rest his hand on his belly. “Besides, I want to finish sucking you off.”  
  
Yixing cocks an eyebrow. “Oh, do you?’  
  
“I do,” says Jongdae. He holds Yixing’s gaze before waddling on his knees backwards down Yixing’s torso. “Unless you want to just fuck my mouth. Which, for the record, I’m more than okay with that.”  
  
“What if I want to fuck something else?”  
  
Jongdae stops over his lap, looking back up at Yixing’s face. “What, like my Fleshlight or something?” he deadpans. Yixing bursts into laughter again, putting a hand to his belly. He looks really, really fucking good all naked and laughing at Jongdae’s jokes. Against the messy sheets, Yixing glows like the subject of a modern Renaissance painting, if modern Renaissance artists depict their muses’ torsos drizzled with cum in messy college dorm rooms.  
  
“Or something,” Yixing says, sitting up and grabbing Jongdae’s ass with both hands. Jongdae lets his eyes close when Yixing’s nose brushes along Jongdae’s cheek, a prelude to kissing to his mouth.  
  
Between semi-clothed kissing to Yixing pulling Jongdae’s pants from his legs, Jongdae soon returns to the bed with lube in hand. Slick pressure from his own hands eases into fingers working him open, Yixing patient with kisses and soothing hands. Once he’s ready and not a moment before, Jongdae spreads his knees apart for Yixing and holds the headboard. “Do it,” he says over his shoulder.  
  
Jongdae turns back forward at the crinkle of the condom packet. Time stretches when Yixing rolls it on, compresses at the first smooth touch of Yixing’s arm around Jongdae’s waist. At the first fit of Yixing’s cock inside him, Jongdae vocalizes the front end of his exhale.  
  
Yixing fucks him far more gently than Jongdae anticipated. His hips move smooth and slow. Gathering Jongdae in his arms, Yixing’s lips brush over a line from between Jongdae’s shoulders to the nape of his neck. With one hand on Jongdae’s belly and the other on his hip, Yixing stirs an ache in Jongdae’s chest, materializing in a crushing weight. Hanging his head and squeezing his eyes shut, Jongdae lets out a shuddering sigh and wills the feeling to dissipate, with moderate success.  
  
Repositioning his knees, Jongdae takes matters into his own hands. Washing away dangerous feelings with a hard swallow, he pushes his hips back against Yixing and fucks him on his own terms. The headboard becomes a point of Jongdae’s leverage, exceptionally useful when he pushes himself all the way down Yixing’s dick.  
  
The faster Jongdae thrusts, the more raw the noises from behind him. Yixing’s once tender hands dig into Jongdae’s hips, fingernails biting crescents into his skin. Hips smack against hips, a rhythmic thudding and squelching. Jongdae drives the pace faster and faster until Yixing’s hunched over behind him, panting and fucking and squeezing and moaning behind Jongdae’s ear. Yixing draws closer to his own climax the more he curses Jongdae’s name under his breath, hissing things that don’t make any fucking sense at all. It sends heat stirring in Jongdae’s groin when it’s still too soon for him to touch himself, enough to make him scream in frustration.  
  
And when Yixing comes, he slams himself into Jongdae, grunting against Jongdae’s shoulder and finishing with a sloppy, biting kiss to Jongdae’s back.  
  
Later, after they’ve disposed of the used condom and Jongdae’s empty bottle of lube, Yixing talks Jongdae into an episode of the show. Jongdae stipulates his conditions from his place curled up beside Yixing and tucked beneath the sheets. “You have to bring Baekhyun’s laptop over here, and we watch under the covers,” he says, lying on his side. “But only because I’m cold.”  
  
A smile takes its time spreading across Yixing’s face, his head propped up in one hand. “I can heat up that hot chocolate too, if you want,” he says, jerking his thumb over his shoulder in the general direction of the mug on Baekhyun’s desk.  
  
Jongdae rolls to his back and stretches. “I mean, I can make us our own hot chocolate.” He fights a yawn. “You know, if you want.”  
  
Yixing’s hand slides over Jongdae’s chest. “I do,” he says, rolling in for a kiss.


	20. November - Distractions

One of his classmates takes to the front of the room, hanging off the optional podium and fumbling their way through their speech. It’s part of their grade to listen to each other, but Jongdae hasn’t been able to think in a straight line for days.  
  
A friendly face tends to sprout up in even the most serious trains of thought, derailing it like Jack’s mythical beanstalk set in the middle of Grand Central Station.  
  
Yixing, dick buried in Jongdae’s ass, groaning into his skin as he comes.  
  
Yixing, playful hands skittering across Jongdae’s skin, giggling warmly at Jongdae on the bed.  
  
Yixing, too fucking drunk and slurring his speech, falling asleep kissing Jongdae, clinging to Jongdae, begging Jongdae not to go. Yixing, remembering the trespass of their agreement days later.  
  
Yixing, whispering to their friends about Jongdae, about all the things he admires, their jokes, and the silly little details from their time together dropped into conversations like stones set in a necklace. Yixing, telling Jongdae to his face what he thinks of him like a fractured cast, where all Jongdae has for clues is bits and pieces of the thing inverted, and he’s never been good at putting puzzles together. Especially not this kind, where the pieces are secondhand memories and stolen looks and fuzzy words, but Jongdae knows enough now to realize where this is all headed.  
  
Yixing, sitting on a piano bench, grinning as freely in practice as in performance, though the performance takes on another layer of charm, endearing in its own right.  
  
Yixing, trekking across campus high as a kite and begging for Jongdae to fuck him as rough as he possibly can, begging for Jongdae to toss him around where Jongdae wants. Harder. Faster. Tighter. Pull my hair, he’d said, and Jongdae had done it and more, enjoying every moment Yixing gave up his control.  
  
Yixing, sad to be forgotten. Yixing, shocked at his own birthday party. Yixing, staring at Jongdae through the crowd of dancers and their circle of friends. Yixing, palming Jongdae’s ass as he rides in the taxi and, again, more intimately, in the dorm.  
  
Yixing, baking the cake for Jongdae’s birthday amidst the undoubted chaos at Junmyeon’s apartment.  
  
Yixing, luring Jongdae into Junmyeon’s secluded bedroom and offering this arrangement.  
  
Yixing, happy to see Jongdae in lecture that second week of classes, back when the trees still had leaves and they still had a chance to avoid this matted tangle of guesswork and hearsay.  
  
They do, Jongdae realizes. They should just stop while they’re ahead, before these inconvenient thoughts grow into something far more disastrous. This no-strings-attached arrangement’s run its course. It’s that simple.  
  
A polite smattering of applause breaks out upon his classmate’s completion of their presentation. Jongdae joins in, ignoring the uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach, and hopes Yixing will understand. Better to get out now before the feelings get out of hand, he thinks, working on the right phrasing. He turns the concept over in his head as the next student takes to the podium, and fuck if Jongdae knows what they present about.


	21. November - Mutual

“We need to talk,” Yixing says over the phone on Saturday afternoon. “Is this a good time?”  
  
“Sure,” Jongdae says, moseying a few steps away from the group of students at the shuttle stop. “I’m just getting out from the gym. Did you want to meet somewhere?”  
  
This is how he finds himself in a quiet corner of the student union building, waiting for Yixing to come bursting through the doors in a bright red scarf and cheeks stained pink from the wind. When he does, it takes him a beat to find Jongdae, even when Jongdae stands up and waves him over.  
  
“Sorry I’m late,” Yixing says. “Missed the first shuttle.”  
  
“That’s okay,” Jongdae says. They sit down around a small table on chairs opposite each other. Nobody else is within fifteen feet of them. “Did you want to grab something to drink first?”  
  
Yixing shakes his head. “I’m fine, thanks.” He exhales through puckered lips.  
  
The silence between them bursts with impatient anxiety, prompting Jongdae. “So, what did you want to talk about?” He adds a smile, trying for optimistically neutral and landing somewhere in the realm of comfortably awkward.  
  
When Yixing meets his eyes, Jongdae holds his breath. This is it. Yixing is going to confess. He braces himself.  
  
“Jongdae, I’ve been thinking,” says Yixing. “We should stop messing around. Like you said, cut it out before one of us wants something more.”  
  
Well, shit. “Oh.”  
  
Yixing nods, looking away. “I’ve had this suspicion for a while, and like, last Friday kind of, well,” he shrugs, “confirmed some things.”  
  
“Oh,” Jongdae says, again. “Yeah, I actually feel the same way.”  
  
“You do?” Yixing looks up at him, almost relieved, and Jongdae wonders why that hurts.  
  
Jongdae nods, pursing his lips and humming in assent. “It’s funny, I’ve also had this kind of thought for a bit, too.” Jongdae raises his eyebrows. “Like maybe one of us wasn’t being honest.”  
  
But Yixing’s forehead furrows despite the corners of his lips perking up. “Really?” he asks. “Huh, yeah, I guess that’s funny.” Instead of laughing, Yixing just looks confused. The whole thing is working out, but at the same time, it’s a train wreck on silent film. Neither of them can stop it.  
  
“I don’t want us to stop being friends,” Jongdae says. “We’ve stopped sleeping together, or whatever, but I’d miss you if you stopped hanging around.”  
  
Yixing smiles, a genuine one this time. “Oh, don’t worry,” he says, flapping his wrist. “I’m not going anywhere.” It’s a relief to hear. Jongdae really would miss him. Yixing is far too important to Jongdae for their friendship to disintegrate after a few fun weeks of sex. “Besides, we still have Chanyeol and Baekhyun to deal with.”  
  
This is easier ground. “Oh, yes,” Jongdae says, letting a laugh dissipate the tension. “Visitation schedule, right? You’re still welcome over whenever they kick you out of your room.”  
  
“Good,” Yixing says, beaming. “You too.” They gaze at each other, holding it a breath too long.  
  
Jongdae breaks first, rushing to stand up. “Well, we did it!” Jongdae says. “Now I can tell Baekhyun that he was wrong.”  
  
Standing as well, Yixing pushes in his chair. “Wrong about what?”  
  
“He told me that this just-friends thing wouldn’t work.” Jongdae steps up beside Yixing. They fall in step together, heading for the exit. “But we did it.”  
  
Yixing chuckles. “Okay,” he says and opens the door to the cold outside.


	22. November - Off-kilter

When Yixing sits beside him in geology lecture, Jongdae holds his breath for something to change. Something to go wrong, like Baekhyun had promised after Jongdae told him they’d agreed to stop fucking.  
  
Instead, everything runs as usual. Yixing settles his bag and umbrella on the floor between his feet. He unzips his jacket and pushes it off his arms, unzips his bag and pulls out his supplies. Jongdae tries not to stare as he listens to Yixing talk about getting caught in the rain. He must not have gotten his umbrella up in time. His hair’s a bit damp and sticks to Yixing’s forehead. Jongdae wants to comb his fingers through it, fix it for him.  
  
Yixing catches Jongdae staring anyway, heat rushing to Jongdae’s cheeks when he realizes he was counting the seconds until Yixing finally looked at him. “What is it?” Yixing asks.  
  
Jongdae blinks, coming up with a plausible excuse. “Sorry, just spacing out,” he says with a laugh.  
  
“Oh,” says Yixing. Jongdae hates the silence that follows. The classroom remains mostly empty, the rain outside the likely culprit for the intermittent trickle of students through the door. “Yeah, it’s been a weird day for me, too.”  
  
Thunder rumbles, muted and distant. Jongdae bites his lip and hopes it will have blown over by the time lecture ends. “Chanyeol’s birthday is coming up, right?” he asks.  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
“I haven’t heard anything about what he wants, besides to get supremely fucked up.” Yixing laughs. “Yeah, good luck with him that night, Baekhyun, am I right?”  
  
“Or me,” says Yixing. “My roommate, my responsibility.”  
  
Jongdae shrugs one shoulder. “That doesn’t always hold true.” It slips out before he can stop himself, freezing for a moment. He blinks, feeling the ghost of Yixing’s lips moving against his, sleepy yet earnest, and remembers the faint musty smell of the dorm room as they drift to sleep. Jongdae clears his throat. “Anyway, will we do something after break?”  
  
“We?” Yixing asks, eyes wide, and Jongdae realizes his mistake.  
  
“I mean, our friends,” Jongdae amends, clearing up the vague language from his question. “Will our friends do something for Chanyeol after the vacation? To celebrate his birthday.”  
  
Understanding dawns in Yixing’s eyes, lips puckering into an O. At least, Jongdae assumes as such. He isn’t looking, of course. Looking at Yixing’s plump, pink mouth would be dangerous and inappropriate and far less fascinating than the strip of paper caught in the rings of Jongdae’s notebook. “That makes more sense,” Yixing says. “No, I think we’ll try to get something thrown together this weekend before everyone leaves.”  
  
“Why so soon?” Jongdae asks, before following up with, “Is it because finals are basically right after we come back?”  
  
Yixing nods. “I mean, getting shitfaced before finals is always a good way to blow off steam but yeah, not in combination with Chanyeol’s birthday.”  
  
“Where will you guys have it, since he’ll still be underage?”  
  
Jongdae resists looking at him as he hesitates. He distracts himself with pulling the caught scraps of notebook paper out of the ringed binding.. “I guess we’ll probably just ask Junmyeon to let us use his place. He’ll say yes.” A snort. “He always does when Sehun asks him.”  
  
“Yeah, what’s going on with them?” Jongdae says, squinting at his notebook and picking at the pages. “Something weird, I bet.” Yixing laughs. “You know what? Nevermind. I don’t need to know.”  
  
“Oh, come on,” Yixing says. From his periphery, Jongdae notices Yixing shake his arm like he was about to jostle Jongdae but thought better of it. “It’s Sehun.”  
  
Rolling his eyes, Jongdae says, “Yeah, but that’s not an explanation.”  
  
“Yes it is. Sehun is Sehun.”  
  
“I still don’t get it,” Jongdae says, unwilling to yield. “Sehun is Sehun. There’s no definition in itself. See? Cold is cold. Hot is hot. It isn’t an explanation.”  
  
Yixing chuckles. “It’s an experience.”  
  
Resolve crumbles, and Jongdae turns his head to look at Yixing full-on. “And what’s that supposed to mean?” he asks, eyebrows raised in innuendo but nerves buzzing.  
  
Meeting Jongdae’s challenge with a grin that reaches all the way to his eyes, Yixing says, “It means what it means.”  
  
Jongdae shakes his head, grinning back. “Typical Yixing.”  
  
“Now that’s Jongdae being Jongdae.”  
  
Smiles set in place, they stare at each other before Jongdae realizes what’s happening and coughs. “So, this weekend. Cool, yeah, let me know how much cheap alcohol to bring and when.”  
  
“Yeah, definitely,” Yixing says, cool and aloof. He draws tight spirals in the margin of his notebook until their professor starts lecture, leaving Jongdae hoping things will feel more relaxed and back to normal sooner rather than later. But for their first interaction since they agreed to stop, Jongdae figures they’re going to be alright.


	23. November - Chanyeol’s Birthday

Jongdae shows up at Junmyeon’s apartment on Friday night with two bags of full of cheap liquor, paper plates, and a big bag of Chanyeol’s favorite flavor of potato chips. To his surprise, he’s the first one there, so he helps Junmyeon with set-up.  
  
Junmyeon is one of those people who constantly seems to have his life together despite relentless teasing to the contrary. Jongdae listens as he talks about his senior thesis, about haggling with the internet provider about his spotty service. He has credit card bills, and pays them off on time. He found this apartment on his own, and pays the rent himself.  
  
Jongdae has a debit card, but only because his bank gave him one with his account. He expects to live in on-campus housing for his final year, and probably would crumble from the stress of a part-time job on top of his schoolwork, thesis project, and a cappella participation.  
  
“How do you have time to breathe?” Jongdae asks.  
  
“You get used to suffocating,” Junmyeon says with a shrug. “I’m considering setting up another meeting with my advisor about placement. I think I might want to work for a few years before taking the next round of exams and going back for an advanced degree.”  
  
“Advanced degree?”  
  
Junmyeon shrugs. “Not much work out there for guys like us, unless we get a Master’s or a JD. I think I’m gonna go for that.”  
  
“Law school?”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
Shaking his head, Jongdae says, “Yikes.”  
  
“Get used to it.” Junmyeon laughs, shaking open a large trash bag. “This will be you next year.”  
  
“It already feels like it, kind of,” Jongdae says. “I still need to meet with my academic advisor about classes next semester. I’m already getting emails with the phrase ‘senior thesis’ in them.”  
  
“Who’s your advisor? Liyin?”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
Junmyeon grins. “Then you’ve got nothing to worry about. Here, come help me set up a game of ten-cup while we wait for our friends to show up.”  
  
Yixing and Sehun join them later, each bearing a stack of pizza boxes. As soon as the smell hits Jongdae’s nose, his stomach clamors for a bite.  
  
They set the pizzas down on the kitchen table. “When are people supposed to get here?” asks Sehun. “Because if it isn’t soon, I’m about to tear open this cheese pizza and take a slice or two.” He pats the topmost box in his stack.  
  
Junmyeon checks the time. “Yixing, didn’t you say 7PM? Chanyeol should be here any minute.”  
  
Sehun helps himself to hot pizza anyway, plopping a slice a paper plate and taking it to the couch. “Whatever. Once he and Baekhyun show up, I’ll make the punch.” Jongdae watches as Yixing follows Sehun to the couch. Yixing catches Sehun’s wrist, redirecting the slice to his mouth and taking take a bite. “No, come on, just get your own.”  
  
“Yours is more fun,” Yixing says. “Plus they’ll be able to tell if we took more than one slice.”  
  
“They’ll be able to tell you took one, so what does it matter if there’s more missing?” Junmyeon asks. Yixing shrugs. “Oh, whatever. I’m hungry.” He helps himself to his own piece of pizza, sitting on Yixing’s other side, which Yixing takes advantage the same way he did with Sehun. Instead of complaining, Junmyeon just laughs.  
  
Giving in to temptation, Jongdae pulls up a chair and opens the chips, snacking while they wait and idly wondering Yixing would try to steal some of his food, too, if he was closer.  
  
Luckily for Jongdae’s conscience, Kyungsoo shows up moments later, letting himself in and setting a tray of cookies beside the pizza boxes. He disappears into the kitchen and comes back sipping a bottle of beer. Soon enough, Baekhyun and Chanyeol and a group of jazz band members burst through the door.  
  
It becomes immediately obvious to everyone that Chanyeol’s already drunk.  
  
“I fucking love you, man,” he says, stumbling to Jongdae and shoving his hand into the bag of chips. “These chips are so good.” Laughing, Jongdae hands over the bag. “Fuck! I love you, oh my god.”  
  
“Happy Birthday, Chanyeol,” Jongdae says, though he’s not sure if Chanyeol hears him over the sound of munching. He wanders away, leaving Jongdae shaking his head after him. “I assume this is your doing?” Jongdae asks Baekhyun when he steps up to take Chanyeol’s place.  
  
Baekhyun shrugs. “He wanted to get blackout. So blackout he’s gonna get.”  
  
“That’s irresponsible.”  
  
“Jongdae, it’s Saturday. We’re in college. He goes home tomorrow afternoon. Tonight, there’s nothing to be responsible about.” Baekhyun pats Jongdae’s shoulder. “Lighten up. Have a beer.” Yixing’s laughter draws Jongdae’s eyes. “You know what?” Baekhyun tightens his grip. “Skip the beer. Do a shot with me.”  
  
Jongdae shrugs him off. “I’m fine, Baekhyun.”  
  
“Yeah, I don’t believe you,” Baekhyun says, hooking his arm with Jongdae and hauling him out of the seat. If anything, at least now Jongdae doesn’t have a prime spot to watch Yixing steal bites of pizza from their friends.  
  
In the kitchen, Baekhyun pours them each a shot from the first bottle of clear alcohol he can find. It burns going down, and Baekhyun talks him into a second before Junmyeon intervenes.  
  
“Last time, someone puked in my vegetable crisper, and that is not a mess I’m cleaning twice,” he says, shooing them out. “Go play pong or something.”  
  
“Hey, Chanyeol!” Baekhyun cups his hands around his mouth over the party. Chanyeol turns around. “You, me, Jongdae, pong?”  
  
It takes Chanyeol a beat to put it together, but when he does, he reacts with loud cheering, both arms punching in the air. “Fuck yeah!” He points at Sehun, Yixing, and one of the jazz trombone players sitting on the couch. “You guys have to play us because I said so.”  
  
“Yeah, I’ll kick your ass on your birthday,” the trombone player says as the group gets to its feet.  
  
“It isn’t his birthday yet, Taekwoon,” Yixing says, grabbing his arm. “Does this thing do more than slide?”  
  
Taekwoon pulls his arm from Yixing’s grip. “Just watch, my friend.”  
  
They set up the pong table while Chanyeol disappears into the bathroom, returning once the cups are in place but the teams have yet to sort themselves out. “Let Jongdae do our eye-to-eye match,” says Baekhyun, taking the ball from Chanyeol’s hand. “He’s practically sober.”  
  
Chanyeol points at Jongdae. “Don’t fuck it up,” he says.  
  
Jongdae waves him off and takes the spot to match up with the other team’s first player. To his luck, or lack thereof, it’s Yixing’s eyes meeting his over the cups. Not for the first time since they’ve started or stopped their private not-relationship, Jongdae kind of wants to die. “Someone count us off,” Jongdae says, jerking his head toward the ever-neutral Kyungsoo but keeping eye contact with Yixing.  
  
After the count of three, Jongdae and Yixing make their toss without looking at the cups, as their rules demand. Once the ball leaves Jongdae’s hand, he looks away and swallows thickly. Yixing’s ball finds a cup while Jongdae’s doesn’t, so Yixing’s team gets first go.  
  
The round passes too quickly but not long enough for Jongdae’s liking. Yixing makes a decent amount of cups, keeping Jongdae busy clearing them away off the table and tipping them back. Jongdae has a fair game himself. He and Baekhyun more than make up for Chanyeol’s increasingly intoxicated state. Sloppy tosses and failed attempts at bouncing into the cup even out his more impressive feats, like Chanyeol catching Taekwoon’s throw after one bounce and sinking it into a trickier cup. It’s a fair match that ends with both teams staring down one cup each.  
  
And of course, it’s up to Yixing and Jongdae to make the first attempt. “What do you say we do this eye-to-eye?” Yixing says.  
  
Jongdae sets his mouth in a grin. “Fine by me.” He jerks his thumb at his teammates on either side of him as he takes the center spot. “All of them too or just us?”  
  
He knows it’s the wrong thing to say when Baekhyun starts laughing. “All of us,” says Sehun, leaning across the table and wiggling his fingers in a preemptive attempt to distract Jongdae.  
  
“Okay, okay, okay.” Jongdae sets his stance, judges the angle and distance of the cup, then meets Yixing’s eyes again. “Ready?” Yixing nods. They count down from three together, Jongdae fighting the heat in his cheeks and letting the shot go. Jongdae misses by a long shot. Yixing comes pretty close, bouncing off the rim.  
  
Looking away as soon as he can, Jongdae steps aside for Baekhyun to take the next shot. He doesn’t react to Yixing watching him from across the table, no matter how much his skin crawls with the sensation.  
  
“Good try,” Chanyeol says, reaching across to rub Jongdae’s shoulder. Baekhyun hunts for the ball, surfacing and cleaning it in one of the water cups at center table. “You got this, Baekhyun! Win me a game.”  
  
Sehun waits for him to finish on the far end. Jongdae shifts backward to let Baekhyun return to their side and prepare to shoot. When he looks across the table, Jongdae watches Sehun. Not the way Yixing rubs his neck or his shoulders, or how Taekwoon claps out a syncopated beat to get Sehun hyped. Or how Yixing accompanies him and they burst into chanting. Or the way watching Yixing break into a smile makes Jongdae want to join, too.  
  
Something—anxiety?—twists in his chest until Jongdae tears his eyes away to see Kyungsoo watching him, pitying him. Jongdae decides Kyungsoo, like Yixing, is not a safe place to leave his eyes right now, and quickly returns them to Baekhyun preparing to toss. Baekhyun misses.  
  
“That’s alright, babe,” Chanyeol says, hands finding Baekhyun’s waist. “I get to be a hero.”  
  
Baekhyun laughs, standing on his toes to smack a kiss on Chanyeol’s cheek. “Go get `em.”  
  
Swaying like a skyscraper during a gale, Chanyeol takes his stance. Taekwoon meets his eye, and on three, they toss. Taekwoon’s bounce gambit flops, the ball bouncing once over the cups to land somewhere beyond the left side of the table. Chanyeol throws a high arc, almost hitting the ceiling, before the little ball descends to land in the cup with a satisfying plunk.  
  
“How the fuck?” Taekwoon says, before Jongdae’s team drowns the rest of the room in cheers.  
  
Loudest of all, Chanyeol. “I fucking did it! I fucking did it!” He throws both fists in the air. “I’m king of the world!” It’s a spectacle, more so when Chanyeol foregoes decency in favor of picking Baekhyun up in an embrace and spinning him around.  
  
Laughing, Baekhyun says, “Put me down before you knock the table over.” Chanyeol obliges with a kiss to his crown.  
  
“It’s just a pong game,” Sehun says. Jongdae makes the mistake of looking across the table again to see Yixing, turning to look right back at him. His mouth goes dry when Yixing smiles.  
  
“A pong game we won,” Baekhyun says.  
  
“Good game, though,” says Yixing. “I think if we went head to head, Jongdae might beat me.”  
  
Jongdae waves him off. “That isn’t true.”  
  
“Yeah,” says Chanyeol, “you’re a lot better than he is lately.”  
  
Yixing edges toward them, but Sehun pulls him back by the back of his sweater. “No, no, no,” says Sehun. “You’re not going anywhere until we get a rematch.”  
  
Shaking his head, Taekwoon backs away. “No thanks,” he says. “I’m out.”  
  
“Are you guys done, or…?” Amber steps forward from the small crowd around the table. “We wanted to play each other next game.” She gestures to herself and a few other guests, Ailee and Juhyun among them.  
  
“Oh!” Chanyeol steps back, a swinging elbow almost catching Baekhyun on the side of the head. “Shit! Sorry!” He sweeps his arm out to the table. “By executive birthday decree, it’s all yours.”  
  
Amber and Baekhyun laugh at him, Chanyeol joining in a beat later. A group of three girls flanking her other side move around to take the spot from Yixing’s team. Jongdae’s amused to see Soojung among them without Jongin trailing after her, but then again, he hasn’t seen the kid all night.  
  
Speaking of Jongin, he opens the door to the party with another boy, someone who looks familiar though Jongdae can’t place him. Chanyeol gasps and barrels toward Jongin, shouting, “Jongin, I thought you weren’t going to come!” He flings his arms around Jongin, enveloping him in a tight hug.  
  
Jongdae sneaks a sidelong glance at Baekhyun, who looks more amused than off-put by his boyfriend’s sudden flight as they make their way in Chanyeol’s wake.  
  
The boy Jongdae doesn’t know shuts the door, sealing the sounds of birthday party and underage drinking from the hallway as best a door can. Jongdae doesn’t catch the next few exchanges, though he pours effort into focusing on the scene at the door. It’s a resolute refusal of his first reaction, which was to follow Yixing around the room with his eyes. The boy slips into the party before Jongdae can catch his name, but Baekhyun fills in the relation (“It’s his roommate, oh my god.”) and relieves Jongdae’s confusion.  
  
Chanyeol eventually relinquishes Jongin from his embrace, all grins. “It’s clear there’s liquor here. Lead me!” Jongin says. Linking arms, Baekhyun leads them on another pilgrimage to the ubiquitous red plastic cups.  
  
Jongdae doesn’t track Yixing’s movement throughout the party, but only because Jongdae spends so much time keeping his thoughts from wandering. And the more he drinks, the harder it is to ignore the impulse to notice. Watching a game of beer pong, Jongdae notices Sehun and Yixing pressed against each other on the couch, taking goofy pictures together on Sehun’s phone. And later, when Jongdae clings to Junmyeon while they reminisce with Baekhyun about last spring’s post-showcase party, he notices Yixing withdrawn to watching the party from a corner until Chanyeol pulls him into a conversation.  
  
Jongdae notices every so often Yixing’s voice saying his name, catching snippets of conversation that drop into his stomach like little pebbles and set him off-balance.  
  
“—really well because Jongdae knows a lot abou—”  
  
“—m lucky that Jongdae got me home safe that night. I wa—”  
  
“—Jongdae’s kind enough to let me know about caroling after the break—”  
  
“Jongdae, you alright?” Baekhyun’s voice this time, and Jongdae corrects his face to grinning before excusing himself to get water. He chugs two full glasses.  
  
Weaving his way back through the party with a third cup of water, Jongdae checks his phone and does his best not to bump into people. Habit leads him to Baekhyun and Chanyeol, neither of which are hard to find. He just follows the sounds of their voices and adds his own.  
  
“Is Chanyeol drunk enough we can start drawing on his face in permanent marker?” he asks.  
  
“I never said that,” Chanyeol starts.  
  
“I’d give him about two more drinks,” Baekhyun cuts in.  
  
“Hey!”  
  
Jongdae and Baekhyun laugh. “We’re just kidding,” Jongdae says.  
  
“I’m not.” Kyungsoo inserts himself into their conversation. “Do I get him another drink or start looking for Junmyeon’s markers?”  
  
“Neither.”  
  
“He means not yet,” says Baekhyun.  
  
“Nuh-uh!”  
  
Kyungsoo turns around, grabbing Sehun from his discussion with Jongin and Yixing about something Jongdae has not been straining to hear for the last five minutes. “Hey, go bring the birthday boy a drink so we can draw on his face.”  
  
Sehun looks between Kyungsoo and Chanyeol. “Yeah, sure. I’ll bring you something good.” He turns on his heel and snakes through clusters of conversation to the kitchen.  
  
“No beer!” Chanyeol calls after him, though Jongdae can’t tell if Sehun heard him or not. “I don’t wanna deal with beer shits an’ a hangover tomorrow.”  
  
Baekhyun wrinkles his nose. “That’s nasty.”  
  
“You’re nasty.” Chanyeol’s hand disappears behind Baekhyun.  
  
“Enough,” says Kyungsoo, “or I’ll throw my drink on you.”  
  
Jongdae laughs when Chanyeol puts both his hands up in surrender. “Okay, okay. Fine.” He puts his hands down when Kyungsoo takes a sip from his cup. “It’s my party, anyway.”  
  
“I don’t care. Gross is gross any day of the year.”  
  
A brief lull in conversation allows Jongdae’s focus to slip past Kyungsoo’s shoulder to where Jongin and Yixing remain, heads bent together, talking. Behind him at the pong table, Amber yells in excitement. Baekhyun clears his throat, and Jongdae snaps his attention back. “Do you wanna ask Junmyeon where he put the cake once Sehun comes back with your drink?”  
  
Chanyeol nods. “Yeah, that’ll be good.” He puts an arm around Baekhyun’s shoulders. “What kind of cake is it?”  
  
“A surprise.”  
  
“Oh, come on. Just tell me the flavor.”  
  
“A tasty one.”  
  
“Baekhyun,” Chanyeol whines.  
  
Jongdae says, “You’ll eat it soon enough, what’s the difference waiting a bit more?” Chanyeol blinks, mouth going slack. “Are Kyungsoo’s cookies not enough for you?”  
  
“Stop putting words in my mouth!”  
  
“My Liege,” says Sehun, inserting himself into the small circle of conversation to present Chanyeol with a cup three-quarters full. It reeks of alcohol, strong enough Jongdae can smell it from his spot next to Chanyeol.  
  
“Sehun, did you put a whole bottle in that?” Jongdae asks.  
  
Chanyeol takes it as Sehun shrugs. “More or less.”  
  
“Oh, god,” says Chanyeol, “more than a bottle in this cup?”  
  
“That’s physically impossible,” says Kyungsoo.  
  
“You bet,” says Sehun, raising his eyebrows at Baekhyun. “I do the impossible.”  
  
Chanyeol sips his drink. “Aw, shit.”  
  
Someone groans from the pong table, and Jongdae turns to see Juhyun scrabbling on the floor for a ball while another girl on Ailee’s team takes aim. Just past the table, he notices Yixing slipping outside to the balcony. Turning back to the group of friends clustered inside, Jongin leans on Sehun as a way into their conversation.  
  
When Chanyeol’s halfway-finished with his cup, Jongdae makes an excuse to refill his own drink. He peeks out the balcony door to see Yixing’s silhouette talking to Taekwoon, and the glow of a cigarette cherry as Taekwoon takes a drag.  
  
Feeling vaguely self-destructive, Jongdae turns into the kitchen and grabs the nearest bottle of liquor, which happens to be tequila. He switches his drink from screwdriver to tequila sunrise, though Junmyeon doesn’t have any grenadine on hand. Jongdae knows. He looked in all the kitchen cabinets for the stuff. Even without it, the drink is good, and plenty strong.  
  
The smell of cigarette smoke washes over Jongdae, and he turns to one side to see Taekwoon opening the fridge for a beer. Stepping around him, Jongdae makes a beeline for the balcony, sparing a glance toward his friends and catching Baekhyun’s gaze for a moment. He slides the glass door open, cold air rushing past him until he closes the panel behind him. On second thought, he probably should have grabbed a jacket.  
  
Two jackets, because Yixing’s leaning against the rail in just his sweater, and the breeze is bracing to say the least.  
  
“Hey,” Jongdae says, stepping past the smell of doused cigarette in the ashtray to rest one hand on the balcony rail.  
  
Yixing spares him a look before turning his focus outward again. “Hey.”  
  
It stings worse than the winter air, because the winter air should sting and a monosyllabic welcome from Yixing shouldn’t. He takes a drink to stymie the feeling and focuses on the burn of liquor at the back of his throat. “I think we’re gonna have cake soon.”  
  
“That’s good. I might leave after that.”  
  
Jongdae chuckles. “Not afraid Chanyeol’s gonna claim your room?”  
  
“No.” Yixing cracks a smile and the knot in Jongdae’s stomach tightens. That’s the wrong reaction, he knows. “Last I heard, he’s well on his way to spending the night in Junmyeon’s bathtub.”  
  
Laughing outright, Jongdae says, “That’s probably true.” He shifts his stance, leaning forward with both forearms on the balcony rail. Jongdae figures he shouldn’t hold his cup over the other side, so he crosses that arm closer to himself. “What do you think that means for Baekhyun? He gonna sleep here too, you think, or just abandon Chanyeol to Junmyeon’s mercy?”  
  
“Junmyeon’s hospitality,” Yixing says. He shrugs. “I don’t know what Baekhyun’s gonna do, to be honest.”  
  
“Yeah, it could go either way.” Another breeze cuts through to Jongdae’s bones. “Aren’t you cold out here?” he asks.  
  
“Kind of, yeah.”  
  
“So why don’t you go back inside?”  
  
“Why don’t you?”  
  
“I don’t want to yet.” The question almost caught him by surprise, and if it had been anyone else, Jongdae wouldn’t have given an honest answer. At least, not one so blunt  
  
With a slight tuck of his chin, Yixing turns his head to look at Jongdae. “Me neither.”  
  
Jongdae can’t help himself anymore. He sidesteps closer until he and Yixing are pressed side-by-side, forming a narrow crevice of protection from the wind. Gratification wells in his chest when Yixing presses into him with a grin and a snort of amusement.  
  
“What are you drinking?” Yixing asks. Jongdae offers it to him wordlessly, and he takes a sip. “That’s a weird-tasting screwdriver.”  
  
“Maybe because it’s got tequila in it,” Jongdae says. A light goes on in a building across the street. “I tried to make a sunrise but Junmyeon doesn’t have any grenadine.”  
  
“All that booze and shit in there, and no grenadine? I’m surprised.”  
  
Jongdae grins as he accepts his drink back. Yixing turns his gaze streetward again. “I know, right? So inconsiderate to not have this one thing just for me.”  
  
“Just for you.” Yixing’s warm tone seeps under Jongdae’s skin. They’re close enough that Jongdae could turn his head to look Yixing in the eye and almost kiss him. A week ago, he’d probably make an attempt at least. Secluded on the balcony, with everyone else wrapped up in the party, it’s the perfect cover to sneak a few harmless kisses. Though they don’t seem so harmless now, the way they did then. “Oh, well. Maybe next time.” Yixing presses his elbow against Jongdae’s arm.  
  
“Yeah, maybe,” Jongdae says. He clears his throat. “When do you leave for break?”  
  
“Tuesday night. You?”  
  
“Not until next Wednesday sometime.”  
  
“Ahh,” Yixing says, nodding his head once. “So you and Baekhyun are leaving about the same time, then.”  
  
Jongdae sighs through his nose. “Yeah. It’ll be nice to be home for a couple days. But I always miss people.” He looks at Yixing as he admits it, inhaling sharply when Yixing turns toward him at the same time. Yixing’s eyes widen slightly, but he blinks once and softens his features with a smile. They’re close and alone with the throbbing of music and party chatter muted by the door behind them. Jongdae shrugs and fights the desire to drop his gaze to Yixing’s mouth. It’s right there. It’d be so simple. He’s spent the past two months kissing it. Now, he’s not sure stopping was the right choice.  
  
No, it was. His next exhale comes shaky. His palms feel warm and almost sweaty wrapped around the plastic cup. Yixing’s smile fades, mouth alluring as his lips relax. Earlier, Junmyeon mentioned a full senior year is like suffocating. Standing alone under the cloudy night sky with Yixing, it’s that exact feeling, and he’s not sure he can take much more.  
  
Another bracing gust of wind makes Jongdae shiver. “Are you cold?” Yixing asks, voice low like it was that first night in Junmyeon’s bedroom. His eyes flicker to Jongdae’s lips. “Maybe you should go back inside.”  
  
“Maybe I should,” says Jongdae, and dammit, tonight must be a night for bad decisions. He breaks his promise to himself and leans in, watching Yixing’s eyes droop closed, his own fluttering as the tips of their noses brush.  
  
The sliding door behind them slams open, the noise from the party bursting, and Jongdae almost drops his cup over the side of the balcony as he and Yixing spring apart. “Hey, you guys, we’re lighting the candles.” Baekhyun sounds smug, and Jongdae grits his teeth and turns around to grin at him.  
  
“Yeah, we were just coming in,” Jongdae says, pushing away from the balcony.  
  
As he passes, he hears Baekhyun mutter, “That’s not what it looked like from my angle.” Jongdae doesn’t deign that with a response.  
  
Inside, the party re-centers itself around the kitchen table. Chanyeol sits with a frosted cake before him, decorated lime wedge candies scattered over top. There are twenty-one individual candles burning on the cake, and Jongdae wonders if that much fire should be so close to someone essentially saturated with alcohol. Jongin and one of his friends from his dance group stand closer to Chanyeol. Taekwoon and Seungwan and other members of the jazz ensemble mix in with vocalists like Juhyun and Sunyoung as the party clusters around Chanyeol and his cake. Jongdae makes a space for himself and Yixing behind the crowd, while Yixing shuts the door.  
  
Junmyeon flips the lights, casting the whole apartment into darkness save for the warm glow of candlelight. Beside Yixing and Jongdae, Baekhyun counts the group off into a hearty rendition of Happy Birthday. Chanyeol nods his head along to the music, clapping when his friends finish. He blows out the candles in one, long gust of air, plunging the room into darkness.  
  
Later, as paper plates of cake get passed around, Jongdae lets other people slip between himself and Yixing like a buffer. When he receives his own slice, he juggles holding both the slice of cake and his drink before knocking back one final sip and setting it down to focus on the food. His piece doesn’t have a candy lime on it, but the citrusy flavor of the frosting and cake more than makes up for it. There’s a bite of tequila too, though Jongdae isn’t sure if that’s from the cake or just leftover from his drink.  
  
Leaning over to Junmyeon, Jongdae asks, “What kind of cake is this?”  
  
“Margarita flavor,” Junmyeon says, cutting off a bite with the side of his fork. “There was only supposed to be tequila in the frosting, but Baekhyun told me that he put it in the cake, too.”  
  
“Ah, so that’s it then.” Jongdae swipes the tines of his fork through the frosting, licking it off. Yep, there’s a taste of tequila on the back end. “It’s a pretty good recipe. I’m impressed.”  
  
“Hey, you two.” Sehun approaches them, his slice of cake reduced to crumbs on his plate as he puts the last bit in his mouth. “Think Chanyeol would sanction a game of spin the bottle? There’s an empty thing of wine in the kitchen.”  
  
Jongdae laughs. “What is this, middle school?”  
  
“Did you play kissing games in middle school?” Sehun asks between chews.  
  
“I’m not sanctioning this,” Junmyeon says. “I’m not having you instigate a drunken orgy at my apartment.”  
  
Sehun and Jongdae share a look before Sehun turns to Junmyeon. “Uh, who said anything about an orgy?”  
  
Junmyeon’s ears go pink and he takes another bite of cake.  
  
“That’s what I thought.”  
  
“Spin the bottle is probably a bad idea anyway,” Jongdae says. He jerks a thumb at Junmyeon. “Captain Pervert here or no.”  
  
“Hey!”  
  
Sehun shrugs. “Worth a try.” His face lights up. “Anybody wanna do a body shot?”  
  
“I’m gonna leave soon, no thanks,” Jongdae says. “I’d rather make it home in one piece and not, I don’t know, stumble face-first into a light pole or something.” He’d also like to work at putting more space between himself and Yixing, who Jongdae can see from the corner of his eye laughing with Jongin and Chanyeol. That incident on the balcony was too close for comfort. It’s better if he leaves, and leaves alone.  
  
“Chanyeol might,” Sehun says. “Though it might push him over the edge.”  
  
“He’s staying here tonight,” Junmyeon says decisively. “So I’d appreciate it you didn’t tempt fate on that end.”  
  
The feel of conversation shifts, mimicking an air of privacy from an inside joke passing unspoken between Junmyeon and Sehun. Jongdae takes a step back, exaggerating a contented sigh. “Well, uh, that cake was good. So, um, I’m just gonna throw this out,” he says, looking to his plate and fork. He steps around them, hurrying to shove his plate into the bulging trash bag on the floor of Junmyeon’s kitchen.  
  
“Wait, where’s Jongdae?” Chanyeol’s voice cuts through the party, louder than usual.  
  
“I’m in the kitchen,” Jongdae yells back as he turns on the kitchen spigot to rinse his hands. “What do you want?”  
  
“Come here!” Baekhyun pops into the doorway. “We’re taking a picture. Hurry up.”  
  
“Okay, okay, I’m coming.” Jongdae finishes up and joins them around the table. Chanyeol hasn’t moved from his seat, which is a good thing because he looks like he could fall over, even sitting. Kyungsoo’s on his other side, joined by Jongin and Yixing. Baekhyun’s on the other side, trying to angle the phone camera to capture himself, Chanyeol, and this little cross section of their friends.  
  
Baekhyun waves him in. “Come on!” Jongdae finds a place for himself, careful not to put himself too close to Yixing and settling for the middle ground peeking through between Chanyeol and Jongin. “Okay, on three.”  
  
They take a few good ones where they’re all smiling, but it devolves into funny ones after that. One of the young women from jazz band takes the last one for them. Baekhyun makes kissy faces, Jongin has Chanyeol in a mock headlock, and Kyungsoo is fake-slapping Yixing across the face while Jongdae laughs at him.  
  
Jongdae pulls Baekhyun aside after the phone’s back in his possession. “Hey, I think I’m heading out soon,” Jongdae says.  
  
“Boo,” says Baekhyun. “Why?”  
  
“I’m tired.”  
  
“You’re a liar.”  
  
“I can be both.”  
  
Rolling his eyes, Baekhyun scoffs. “Whatever. I’ll see you in the morning, then.” Jongdae nods. “Text me when you get back.”  
  
“I will.”  
  
“Jongdae, you’re leaving?” Chanyeol asks, pushing himself out of the chair. “Without saying goodbye?” He smacks a spread hand to his chest, landing with a dull thunk. “I thought we were friends.”  
  
“I’m saying goodbye, Chanyeol,” Jongdae says with a smile. He steps towards Chanyeol, fully expecting the tight, clingy bear hug when it comes. Jongdae pats him on the back. “Happy birthday.”  
  
“Thanks, man,” Chanyeol says with a squeeze. He steps back from the hug, stumbling into the chair. It’s probably the best place for him for a while. “Get home safe.”  
  
Nodding, Jongdae says. “I will.” He doesn’t make the mistake of looking at Yixing before turning for the bathroom. One last stop, then he can grab his coat and leave. Simple enough, though there’s already a one-person line for Junmyeon’s sole bathroom.  
  
Upon exiting the bathroom, he’s met with the sight of Yixing in Junmyeon’s bedroom, sifting through the coats on the bed. Yixing looks up when Jongdae steps inside. “Are you leaving too?”  
  
Yixing shakes his head. “It’s kind of irrelevant now, but I was hoping to have your jacket ready for you to leave.”  
  
“Why?”  
  
A shrug.  
  
“That’s considerate of you. Really thoughtful.”  
  
From beneath a thin neon orange windbreaker (who in their right mind would wear something so flimsy on a night like tonight? Unless it’s super effective, maybe), Yixing pulls out Jongdae’s coat. “Here.”  
  
“Thank you,” Jongdae says, pulling it on and zipping it up. He pats himself down, checking his pockets for the big three: keys, phone, wallet. “I’ll see you before vacation starts, right?”  
  
“Maybe. I might skip my Tuesday afternoon classes to pack for break.”  
  
“Oh,” is all Jongdae can say. “I’ll see you after, then.”  
  
They look at one another, separated by a safe distance that didn’t exist out on the balcony earlier in the night. There’s a lot more Jongdae could say to fill the space, but it feels unnecessary or unwanted. Or, in the case of pulling Yixing close for the kind of goodbyes he’s grown accustomed to over the past few weeks, inappropriate.  
  
“Get home safe, Jongdae.”  
  
“You too,” Jongdae says. He leaves the room, Yixing following. But when Jongdae veers for the exit, Yixing turns the other way, and Jongdae keeps his face forward.  
  
Jongdae closes Junmyeon’s front door, leaving the party behind him. He walks down the hallway, lips pressed together in a firm line of frustration. Which is bizarre. Frustration is the wrong reaction, but frustration at what? Jongdae calls the elevator with the push of a button. It was a fun party, and Chanyeol certainly enjoyed himself, so the main goal of the night has been achieved. With a ding, the elevator doors open and Jongdae steps inside. Plus, he and Yixing didn’t hook up, not even a little bit, though Baekhyun deserves a bit of lucky credit in that end. He should be happy about it on some level. This is the outcome they both agreed to, the outcome he wanted from the beginning, right?  
  
The doors close, elevator pausing before it shuttles him down to the ground floor.


	24. November - Break

The first day of break, Jongdae finds himself stuffing a duffel bag with last-minute essentials, like toiletries. His phone chirps with a text from Baekhyun.  
  
baekhyun [12:47PM]:  
can u do me a favor & rinse my cereal bowl? i 4got this AM lol  
  
Jongdae rolls his eyes but obliges the request, clearing Baekhyun’s abandoned bowl from his desk before resuming the packing effort. Under a mound of clothes, his eye catches on a grey camouflage hoodie, not his, not Baekhyun’s, but familiar all the same. Jongdae pulls it out and holds it up, staring at it. Willing its owner to appear, though he’s probably still asleep in his bed. Miles away at his own house.  
  
Dropping his arms, Jongdae chuckles at himself. He’s being silly. Sillier yet, he looks around the empty room before bunching the fabric together and taking a tentative sniff. For the sake of science of course.  
  
It doesn’t really smell like anything, but Jongdae closes his eyes and remembers the way pot tasted when he licked into Yixing’s cotton-dry mouth over a month ago. Behind closed eyes the scene plays out again and again, flashes of memory blazing in Jongdae’s mind. Yixing clings to him, crowds him against the door. Begging. So much begging, Jongdae didn’t know Yixing was capable of such a feat. Or that they’d both like it so much. Jongdae fucks his mouth, pins him to the bed, trails his hand over skin. Yixing’s wet tongue licks between Jongdae’s fingers, fingers that hooked over his flush lower lip. The curve of Yixing’s chin, the pulse under his neck. At his hip. The two of them fold into each other’s arms, sated. Safe. Yixing giggles breathy against Jongdae’s neck.  
  
Jongdae switches his grip on the sweatshirt to hug it to his chest. Rainy afternoons studying in the library take the place of sex. Their quiet, comfortable rhythm writing and researching in the stacks shift to gentle prodding and joking late at night. Catching Yixing in the practice rooms, where they sing together and other sins. Walking across campus, sitting in the late summer night’s breeze, in the bracing chill of winter air. Holding Yixing as they fight sleep in one bed, succumb to it in another.  
  
Startling him from his reverie, his phone alerts him to another text from Baekhyun.  
  
baekhyun [01:01PM]:  
Thx babe ur da best  
  
jongdae [01:02PM]:  
Anything for you, sweet cheeks  
  
baekhyun [01:02PM]:  
Lmao gross  
  
He pulls on the sweatshirt, drawing the hood over his head, and resumes packing.  
  
The next time his phone rings, it’s his parents, calling him from their car at the nearest parking lot. Jongdae’s late, so he throws a few more underwear into his bag and zips it on the way out.  
  
Most of Thursday morning Jongdae spends helping his mother get ready for the big Thanksgiving meal. She has him prepare vegetables and starches, help her maneuver the turkey, and set the table, all before they take a break for a small lunch. The house smells amazing with the food in the oven, but they have a bit of cleaning left to do and a couple last-minute touches before the party starts.  
  
Family starts arriving mid-afternoon, aunts and uncles and cousins, right around the time Jongdae’s phone starts buzzing on and off with an influx of ‘Happy Thanksgiving’ text messages from his friends. There’s one name that remains conspicuously absent, but only because Jongdae’s looking for it. But one of his favorite cousins bursts through the door and Jongdae lets the thought trail off in favor of greeting her.  
  
During the appetizers course, one of Jongdae’s uncles has too much to drink, the one that always does, and starts spouting off about unfavorable politics earlier than usual. Rather than listen to him rant about offensive things and generally upset the holiday atmosphere in his traditional holiday fashion, Jongdae tunes him out to a dull roar and fires back a few ‘Thanks! Happy Turkey Day to you too!’ texts to everyone who’s wished him well so far, and some that haven’t gotten around to it.  
  
He pauses over Yixing’s name in his contacts, thumb poised to strike the touchscreen. What is he supposed to say? Not sending something seems childish. Sending something seems frivolous, until Jongdae decides sending Yixing a holiday text would be treating him like everyone else.  
  
jongdae [draft]:  
Happy Thanksgiving! I’m thankful for your friendship, through gravies thick and thin (lol!)  
  
Jongdae cringes at his ability to come up with campy lines like this right off the bat, deletes the message, and tries again.  
  
jongdae [draft]:  
Yo! Happy T-day, man!  
  
And again, and again, and….  
  
jongdae [draft]:  
This year, I’m grateful for you. Happy Thanksgiving!  
  
jongdae [draft]:  
I don’t think I know…. Are you more of a parade or sports or feast kind of guy? Whatever way you like to spend the day, have a good one!  
  
jongdae [draft]:  
Happy Turkey Day lol eat well!  
  
jongdae [draft]:  
Why is this so fucking hard lmao  
  
jongdae [draft]:  
Happy Thanksgiving! Don’t get trampled tomorrow! Capitalism kills!  
  
That text he deletes entirely. After a sip of sparkling apple juice and dodging a glare from his mother for texting at the holiday table, Jongdae tries again.  
  
jongdae [05:05PM]:  
Hey! Happy Thanksgiving. I hope you’re having a great break!  
  
He sends that one and pockets his phone before he spends the rest of the evening staring at the screen and willing it to populate with Yixing’s reply.  
  
Instead, he waits for his phone to vibrate in his pocket and resists the urge to check until it does. Which it doesn’t.  
  
He checks it anyway, after all his cousins leave and he helps clean up after the party, when the sky has long since gone dark. To his joy-turned-dismay, a text from Yixing awaits him. A text from four hours ago. How did he not feel the alert? He blames his dress slacks.  
  
yixing [05:34PM]:  
Hi! You too :P Eat lots of good food! Say hi to your grandma for me  
  
jongdae [09:48PM]:  
Lol I ate sooooo much haha RIP  
  
jongdae [09:48PM]:  
What’s with the grandma thing  
  
yixing [09:49PM]:  
I’m collecting them  
  
yixing [09:49PM]:  
Trying to, anyway  
  
yixing [09:49PM]:  
Baekhyun’s grandma said hello back but nobody else has replied  
  
jongdae [09:50PM]:  
Sorry but mine’s already gone home to sleep lol  
  
Jongdae keeps up his text conversation with Yixing as he gets ready for bed. He slips under the covers and flips through his social media apps, the bluish glow of his screen the only light left in his bedroom as he awaits the next reply.  
  
yixing [10:02PM]:  
Kinda uneventful. It was just my family and some neighbors lol I helped make the food and clean up and everything. One of the neighbors brought fancy champagne so I might’ve got a little tipsy…  
  
jongdae [10:02PM]:  
Lol cute  
  
yixing [10:03PM]:  
Omg  
  
jongdae [10:03PM]:  
LOL  
  
yixing [10:03PM]:  
What about you?  
  
jongdae [10:04PM]:  
Eh, same old thing  
  
yixing [10:05PM]:  
Aww, ok. Well, I think I’m gonna sleep soon  
  
jongdae [10:05PM]:  
Goodnight~ sleep well  
  
yixing [10:06PM]:  
Thanks, haha, you too!  
  
jongdae [01:31AM]:  
I know you’re asleep so I hope this doesn’t wake you up but its 1:30 in the morning and I kinda miss you  
  
yixing [04:14AM]:  
I miss you too


	25. November - Flyer Duty

Junmyeon sends a mass text Monday night. The caroling flyers are ready, and now it’s everyone’s turn to take a stack and put them up around campus. Baekhyun and Jongdae grab coats and gloves before they head over to the student union together, ready to get the task over with before the weather gets any colder.  
  
Noise from the open seating area beyond the café help guide Baekhyun and Jongdae to the flyer distribution. Spread over several tables, a handful of a capella groups have called their members to help distribute the caroling event announcement. Junmyeon’s at the center, joking with another good-looking a cappella leader, who returns to his table as Baekhyun and Jongdae approach. This year, the handouts come in three different colors: golden yellow, light blue, and bright red. Printed in black ink on each color is the standard flyer fare of the event name, date, and a brief summary of the details. And festive clip-art, of course.  
  
The QR code on the bottom right corner is new.  
  
“It’s a link to the event page on Facebook,” Junmyeon says, handing Jongdae a stack of the flyers. Baekhyun puts his arms out to receive a roll of masking tape. “Neat, huh?”  
  
“Yeah, it’s cool!” Jongdae says. “Raising the bar for us next year.” He shoots Baekhyun a grin.  
  
“We’ll figure something out.”  
  
“This year, we’re responsible for the gym and the south science halls, so go catch a bus before you have to stand in the cold for half an hour.”  
  
Jongdae nods, turning to get started, but Baekhyun lingers, asking, “Hey, as leader, do you have to go out in the cold and put up signs?”  
  
With a chuckle, Junmyeon shrugs. “Only if there’s flyers left to put up.”  
  
“Good to know for next year.” Baekhyun turns to see Jongdae waiting for him within earshot, and together they catch the next shuttle.  
  
The south science halls are furthest from their dorm, so they decide to take care of those flyer boards first. The buildings are also pretty empty, thanks to the lull between Thanksgiving break ending and cramming for finals. So, when Baekhyun bursts into ‘Santa Baby,’ Jongdae joins him. It’s not Jongdae’s favorite Christmas song, but they’ll move on to others. And, singing beats Baekhyun trying to pry about Minseok setting up and following through with a Skype call, or Yixing’s texts on Thanksgiving.  
  
Three songs later, they’re ready to go. The singing quiets as they leave the building, though there’s nobody at the shuttle stop when they get there. The shuttle is, so Baekhyun and Jongdae race to catch it, climbing aboard just before it closes its doors.  
  
When they get there, the gym is populated, so singing isn’t a valid option for either of them. It’s warmer than the science buildings, encouraging them to unzip their coats and take off their gloves. The first board they check already has the caroling announcement. They try the board in the basement, the one outside the locker rooms, and this one needs a few flyers. After asking one of the employees, Jongdae puts some on the locker room doors for good measure.  
  
“Do you think Sehun’s working tonight?” Baekhyun asks when they meet up again to call it quits for the night.  
  
“I dunno. Why?”  
  
“Maybe he’ll give us a free smoothie or something.”  
  
Jongdae shrugs. “Worth a shot.”  
  
The second floor houses the gym’s administrative offices, a large group exercise room, a set of bathrooms, and just past the landing on the stairs, the snack bar. Citrusy colors from the walls and the posters advertising the smoothies welcome them. The bar and register area itself is stainless steel, with a matching door leading into a small room behind the bar. Here, they do find Sehun. But he’s not behind the counter, and he’s not alone. Yixing’s helping him put chairs up on tables, the furniture another mix of citrus and steel.  
  
The sight of him…Jongdae feels like the bottom of his stomach has fallen out, anxious and excited all at once. “I guess we’re too late for free smoothies, huh?”  
  
“Oh, hey guys,” Sehun says. He leans against a table and crosses his arms while Baekhyun and Jongdae make their way over. “What are you doing here?”  
  
“Putting up caroling posters,” Baekhyun says, handing him one. “You should come.” He hands one to Yixing, too.  
  
Yixing takes his time reading while Sehun skims it. “Junmyeon was talking about this before break. Will there be free food?”  
  
“No,” Jongdae says, “but usually we have a big pot of hot chocolate and pour schnapps into our cups. Then we go around campus and sing.”  
  
Baekhyun nods. “It’s a lot of fun.”  
  
“I can do the schnapps part.” Sehun shrugs one shoulder. “Maybe if I have enough, I’ll sing, too.”  
  
“Spread it around.” Jongdae offers him a few more flyers. “The more people we have, the more fun it will be.” Sehun takes one, and Yixing leans over to take a few, too. “Depending on how many people join us and how many stops we can make, it’s half an hour to two hours. Usually between then.”  
  
“Not including the hour of pregaming beforehand,” Baekhyun says.  
  
“Right. But once we’re done, you’ve got the rest of your night back for studying or, you know, whatever.” Jongdae’s eye settle on Yixing, carefully folding the flyers and running them to his bag in the corner.  
  
Baekhyun snaps his fingers and points at Sehun. “How about a trade?”  
  
“A trade?” Sehun quirks his eyebrow. “I’m listening.”  
  
“Me and Jongdae help you clean up tonight, and you come caroling next week. Take it or leave it.”  
  
Sehun laughs. “Maybe you should help put the chairs up so I can finish cleaning in the back, and I’ll think about it.”  
  
Baekhyun rolls his eyes, gearing up to argue, but Jongdae says, “Deal. But if we finish before you do, you have to come caroling with us.”  
  
“Nope, you accepted. No addendums.” With that, Sehun crumples the flyer and shoves it in his pocket on his way to the other room, what Jongdae assumes is a small kitchen or prep area for washing and cutting things like fruit and kale.  
  
Dumping their jackets on a finished table, the three of them get to work on the rest of the chairs. Baekhyun peels off to work on his own, leaving Yixing with Jongdae and the strange, simmering discomfort in his belly. He doesn’t want to be alone with Yixing, and he isn’t, not really, but there’s enough space that they could speak in hushed voices and carry on a semi-private conversation.  
  
Jongdae doesn’t want to have any kind of private conversation with Yixing. Not tonight. He pitches his voice louder than he probably needs to when he asks, “How was break? I heard Minseok Skyped with you.”  
  
“Yeah, we talked for about an hour before he had to go to bed. It was good to see him, hear him, you know.” Yixing flips another chair on the table. “He mentioned he talked with you earlier on Friday.”  
  
“Did he show you his cat?” Jongdae asks.  
  
Yixing nods. “Yes! It’s so cute.”  
  
“Good. I made him promise he would.”  
  
“What?” Baekhyun says, voice carrying across the dining area. “You _both_ saw Minseok over break? He didn’t Skype me! I’m jealous.” Baekhyun whines and Jongdae teases while the three of them finish upturning chairs.  
  
They finish before Sehun does. “He should have agreed to my condition,” Jongdae says. He looks up at the hanging menu behind the register, reading beyond the fruit smoothies section for once. “And what the hell is ‘maca powder’ and why is it so expensive?”  
  
“Sounds like some kind of supplement. Ask Sehun, he might know.” Baekhyun leans against the smoothie bar, beneath a sign that reads ‘Pick-Up Here.’  
  
“It’s a new superfood, I think,” Yixing says, grabbing his bag and dropping it near Baekhyun’s feet. Baekhyun steps aside. “Sorry, did that land on you?”  
  
“No, I’m gonna run to the bathroom real quick. Don’t leave without me, okay?” Baekhyun darts off.  
  
Yixing takes Baekhyun’s spot beneath the sign. Jongdae tries not to do anything embarrassing, like laugh nervously or crack a bad joke. He keeps his mouth tight, doesn’t look at Yixing, and crosses his arms, nodding in silence.  
  
“Are you okay?” Yixing asks. “You look like you’re about to vomit.”  
  
“I’m not gonna puke,” Jongdae says, biting back an anxious chuckle and forcing it into a smile.  
  
Yixing raises his eyebrows, not buying it. “Was Baekhyun not supposed to find out about the Skype with Minseok?”  
  
This time, the laugh that bubbles up is genuine. “No, no. Out of the secrets between us, that one’s pretty low on the confidentiality list.”  
  
“Secrets?”  
  
“Yeah.” _Like the fact you’re kind of in love with me or something_ , Jongdae wants to say, but the word ‘love’ and the way it sprang so easily to mind startles him a little, so he keeps quiet.  
  
Puzzled, Yixing says, “But I thought he knew about the fucking.”  
  
“He did. Does.” Worrying the inside corner of his mouth, Jongdae pieces out a way to phrase his thoughts without actually putting Yixing on the spot, lest he spook like a woodland creature. “Something else.”  
  
“Jongdae,” Yixing says, catching his gaze and holding it. There’s a pull to those sleepy brown eyes that’s got a hook in Jongdae’s chest, and Jongdae’s pulse quickens. Half-formed questions take shape in the slight widening of eyes, the slack at the corner of a mouth. Maybe he’s been reading everything wrong? Jongdae’s throat goes dry on a long, quiet inhale. He’s glad he hasn’t accused Yixing of anything outright. Now all the evidence from before seems less certain, clouded by memory’s haze. But right now, there’s an undeniable lean forward that blows doubt out of Jongdae’s mind when Yixing asks, “What else is there?”  
  
Neither of them bother answering the question when the answer feels so tangible, or maybe because neither of them want to say it. At least, Jongdae doesn’t. If Yixing confesses, or if Jongdae calls him out, the truth will be out in the open, but then what?  
  
Sehun comes out from the back room, each step he takes dissipating the tension in the air like a rising sun dispenses of early morning fog. “Aw, nice! Thanks for the help!” Jongdae sighs inwardly, relief and disappointment washing over him in waves. “Did Baekhyun already leave?”  
  
“No, he’s in the bathroom,” Yixing says, shifting away from Jongdae. “He should be back any second now.”  
  
Sehun plants a hand on the smoothie bar behind Yixing and vaults over, knocking a napkin dispenser to the floor with his foot. “Shit.” He hops down, picking it up and examining it for cracks. “Not broken.” Dusting off one side, he puts it back. “Well, that could have gone worse.”  
  
Jongdae laughs. “You got that right.” Yixing’s brow furrows and guilt rolls into the unsavory swirl of feelings in Jongdae’s gut. He ignores it for now, but it’s getting out of hand. He’ll have to deal with it sooner rather than later, hopefully before whatever is happening ends their friendship forever. His traitorous brain offers that maybe Baekhyun was right after all, but Jongdae isn’t ready to admit defeat. Not yet.


	26. December - Plans

Jongdae wakes to a bleary morning, slate clouds dumping freezing rain over campus in a pitiful attempt at snow. It makes going to and coming from his geology lab session absolute hell, even with an umbrella. The storm hasn’t let up by mid-afternoon either, so Jongdae leaves early for his appointment with his academic advisor because of it. Everything always runs slow when it’s miserable outside.  
  
True to form, his advisor is running late too, so Jongdae camps out on the couch in the lobby of the political science department. He upturns his umbrella on the floor to encourage it to drip dry, boxing it against the wall with his backpack, and pulls out his phone.  
  
It doesn’t matter if it’s Twitter, or Facebook, or Instagram. It doesn’t matter what article he reads, what game he plays. Gaming at least gives him something to do with his hands, something to distract part of his brain while another part gnaws hungrily at serious questions. Most of the questions are useful, like “what am I going to do with my education?” and “how can I achieve my career goals?” These are the sorts of questions he’ll tackle today in his meeting with his advisor, questions of substance and academic merit.  
  
Beyond these lurks another sort of question. Nebulous, hard for Jongdae to tie down with words, the good ones he thinks it deserves. When he puts his mind to it, a task he avoids because it makes him uncomfortable, all he can come up with is “So what?” or “What then?” They’re unhelpful, floating around beside memories of Yixing, taunting him with “What are _you_ gonna do about it?”  
  
What _is_ he going to do about Yixing’s crush on him? Jongdae cringes inwardly at the phrase, how juvenile it feels in his head. Juvenile is preferable to melodramatic, that much he knows about himself. He can joke about things if they’re immature. Love deserves more weight than that.  
  
Love also sends him scared out of his wits, because that’s a different kind of life choice, and Jongdae’s not even out of college.  
  
He loses the level and restarts, unwilling to give up the game yet. His character resets at the starting line, the countdown flashing before the level rolls along on screen. It’s a cute, mindless game. Dodge the obstacles while the track races along, collect the prizes for points. Yixing recommended it to Baekhyun, who coerced Jongdae into playing it by incessantly sending him game tokens. So really, the fact Jongdae’s grown addicted to the game right before finals week is Yixing’s fault.  
  
(It isn’t.)  
  
When Jongdae completes the level, the game gives him the option to convert some of his points into a token to send to a friend, which would give him a different bonus. He hits the mark next to Yixing’s name in return for a power-up.  
  
As he moves on to the next course, the door to the department opens. He looks up to watch his advisor shaking out her umbrella into the hallway, the to-go cup of tea in her other hand a familiar sight. “Ah, Jongdae, sorry I’m late,” Liyin says when she turns around.  
  
Jongdae exits the app and locks his phone in a smooth motion, pocketing it as he stands. “It’s okay, I’m early.”  
  
“Follow me, let’s get started.” She sweeps past him to her office, Jongdae following in her wake and collecting his things along the way.  
  
Once they’ve settled in, it’s easy talking to her about his schoolwork. Liyin helps him pick classes for next semester, congratulating him for being on track to finish his requirements. She suggests he take on an internship or a part time job to bolster his resume. Filling in a few of the gaps in his work experience should help him decide how he’d like to continue his education, if he’s interested in doing so, and will begin his professional network. Jongdae shudders internally when she says that, professional network, because it sounds too much like becoming a real adult.  
  
Liyin asks if he’s thought about what kind of direction he’ll take after his graduation, and he inhales through clenched teeth “I’m not sure if I want to go to law school, or graduate school, or maybe work for a bit before going back to school,” he says.  
  
She frowns and takes a sip of her tea. “You usually have a plan when you come in to meet with me each semester. Even your first year, you knew what you wanted.”  
  
He shrugs, guilty for disappointing her, afraid to elaborate and say the wrong thing.  
  
“That’s okay, though. Doubt is normal, but don’t wallow too long. Figure out what you want, then do it.” She pauses to collect her thoughts. “Some students take a few years to learn what it’s like in their desired career environment, like a policy institute, before deciding to stay or go back for more education.” Liyin leans forward, resting one arm on her desk. “Whatever you choose, it’ll be a lot of work. You just need to decide. Then commit, follow through with it, of course.” She laughs and sits back in her chair. “But I’m not worried. You’ll figure yourself out soon.”  
  
“At least one of us is confident about that,” he says, crooked smile playing it off as a joke. “Do you have any information for, well, any of the post-graduate options you mentioned?”  
  
She rummages around for pamphlets in her bag and desk drawers but comes up empty. “I don’t think I have any left. The career center should have more, so stop by there when you can.”  
  
“Okay.”  
  
Liyin stands, a signal for Jongdae to stand as well. Their meeting time must be up. He might not have a solid answer for what he wants to do with his career over the next five years, but he’s got a better sense of how to figure it out. If only he could ask Liyin for help with things outside of his academics, just to get that same feeling of preparedness, he’d be set.  
  
“Thanks for stopping by today, Jongdae,” she says as he collects his things from the ground. “I hope you do stop by the career center soon. The information should help you decide on a goal, and when we meet again before your senior year, you’ll have that determination back.”  
  
“Hopefully sooner,” says Jongdae standing at the door. “Thank you for your help. I really appreciate it.”  
  
“You’re welcome.” Liyin sits back down. “Stay dry out there.”  
  
Jongdae hefts his umbrella, part-way dry. “I’m gonna try.”  
  
The storm outside subsided a bit, the freezing rain little more than chilly drizzle. The patches of ice on the ground have also melted into an ugly mess. Even so, Jongdae decides to walk back to his dorm instead of waiting for the next shuttle. He weighs the idea of taking a detour to the career center against itself before laughing out loud when he realizes what he’s doing.  
  
If he takes the upcoming turn, his new route would just so happen to pass the administration building, where he can grab a few of those informational pamphlets. At the next corner, Jongdae makes up his mind and heads the long way home.


	27. December - Songs

Strictly speaking, the university does not permit or encourage underage drinking. Which is why all the liquor for shot hot chocolate sneaks into the rehearsal room in repurposed coffee syrup bottles. All the schnapps flavors are basically the same anyway, mint, caramel, butterscotch, cinnamon. Jongdae’s particularly amused with the Irish cream, this year in a jug labeled ‘MILK’ in thick block letters.  
  
What the university will allow, or at least hasn’t been explicitly prohibited, is the slow cooker plugged into a wall outlet and perched atop a long desk. It keeps the pot of hot chocolate warm while Seohyun takes care not to spill as she ladles it out into styrofoam cups.  
  
As other carolers-to-be trickle in, Jongdae and Baekhyun stay to one side of the room, sipping their spiked hot chocolate. Jongdae hides a smile behind his cup every time Baekhyun’s eyes dart to the door when it opens.  
  
“Oh shut up,” Baekhyun says when he catches Jongdae watching him. “You’re looking, too.”  
  
“I’m watching you,” Jongdae says, “not the door. There’s a difference, an important one.”  
  
Baekhyun rolls his eyes. The next time the door opens, he still checks to see if it’s Chanyeol walking through or not. Jongdae laughs, but Baekhyun ignores him. “Do you think we’ll get a lot of people?”  
  
“Maybe. It’s still early.”  
  
“Yeah, but there are already a lot of people here that didn’t perform at the showcase.”  
  
“I guess,” Jongdae says. The door opens again, Jimin from one of the women’s a capella groups coming through. “Oh come on, stop checking. You know he’ll be here.”  
  
“I’m allowed to be excited to see my boyfriend.”  
  
“I never said you weren’t. It’s less about Chanyeol and more about you being on edge all week about your final exams.”  
  
A huff, then Baekhyun shifts his weight to his other foot. He takes a drink of hot chocolate. “I’m calm.”  
  
Jongdae hums, nodding. “So calm.” He widens his eyes and gives a little gasp. “Is that Chanyeol now?”  
  
“Where?” Baekhyun turns toward the door, but there’s nobody there. “You asshole.”  
  
Laughing, Jongdae pulls over a seat, making a deliberate choice for one facing away from the door. “Too easy.”  
  
Baekhyun sits with him, pouting. “I just have one last exam, and fuck me if it’s worth like, seventy-five percent of my final grade.”  
  
“Ugh, that sucks.”  
  
“The ‘Scope and Methods’ credit is required for my major, like that specific course, so it’s not like I can get the credit somewhere else. If I fail, I have to take it again with this bullshit professor and this bullshit grading.”  
  
“Sounds pretty bullshit to me, Baekhyun.”  
  
Baekhyun glares at him.  
  
“The class, I mean.”  
  
“If you think you’re being funny, you’re not.”  
  
Jongdae beams. “Maybe you’re too stressed to see my comedic genius.”  
  
“Maybe there’s no genius to see.”  
  
Taking a sip of his hot chocolate, Jongdae says, “I know that’s the stress talking and not you. I’m the funniest person you know.”  
  
“Well, I guess I need new friends.”  
  
“Nah. You’d miss me too much.”  
  
Baekhyun snorts, returning Jongdae’s smile. “I would, you ass.” He perks up, sitting straighter in the chair. Jongdae doesn’t have to turn around to know who it is. “Glad you could join us! The hot chocolate’s over there.”  
  
“Where’s the liquor?” Sehun asks, and Jongdae wasn’t expecting that voice so he turns in his seat. Chanyeol and Sehun shed their jackets, dumping them in nearby chairs. Yixing is nowhere in sight.  
  
Jongdae tries not to let the disappointment show. “You see those coffee syrup bottles kinda hidden on the back table?” He points across the room where Juhyun and Seulgi chat animatedly as they spike their cups.  
  
“Yeah?”  
  
“They’re not coffee syrup.” Jongdae sits facing forward again.  
  
“Got it.”  
  
“Flavor corresponds to flavor, so at least there’s that.”  
  
While Sehun makes a beeline for Seohyun and the styrofoam cups, Chanyeol stops by Baekhyun’s chair. “Be back soon.” He follows Sehun after leaning down to meet Baekhyun for a peck on the lips without a second thought.  
  
Once Chanyeol’s a safe distance away, Jongdae says, “Well, that was disgustingly cute.”  
  
“Shut up. I’m happy.” Baekhyun looks down into his cup.  
  
Jongdae grins. “I know.” They both take a drink. Two months ago, Baekhyun was sitting in their bathroom, letting plum dye process and concerned if he was rushing into his relationship with Chanyeol. Now, Jongdae wonders if they’ll touch up his roots again before winter break. He’s not worried about them breaking up any time soon.  
  
Chanyeol and Sehun rejoin them, passing the half hour with gossip and chatter. Jongdae’s heart isn’t really in it. When he laughs, he looks to his side to see if someone else is laughing, too, but the seat’s empty. Jongdae knows who he wishes would fill it.  
  
Jongin’s roommate drags him in at the bottom of the hour, and Kyungsoo drops by shortly thereafter with Junmyeon. As the room starts to fill, the noise increases and their circle of chairs grows. Jongdae withdraws, content to watch his friends laugh and chime in with a few of his own well-timed remarks.  
  
Junmyeon gets up, disrupting Sehun’s arm draped across his shoulders, to help with last call for hot chocolate and to assist the other a cappella group leaders hand out carol books.  
  
“Anyone else want a cup of hot chocolate for the road?” Jongdae asks, getting up. When nobody pipes up, he shrugs. “Just me? Okay.” The line for last call is shorter than he expects, Minyoung taking over ladle duty for Seohyun while she hands out books.  
  
“One for me too, please.”  
  
Jongdae grins, turning his head over his shoulder to greet Yixing. “Took you long enough.”  
  
Minyoung hands Yixing a cup of hot chocolate, which he thanks her for before the two of them move aside. “I got carried away in the practice room.”  
  
Quirking an eyebrow, Jongdae reaches for the schnapps. “Alone or otherwise?”  
  
Yixing laughs. “Alone.” He leans in as he grabs the same bottle and lowers his voice. “Who else would I get up to that sort of thing with in public, besides you?” Jongdae goes still, smile frozen in place as Yixing pours a glug of the liquor into each of their cups.  
  
“Oh.”  
  
“Jongdae, do you need a song book or do you have them all memorized by now?” Seohyun asks. “Here, Yixing, one for you.”  
  
“Thank you.”  
  
“I should probably take one just in case,” Jongdae says. “Gotta know when to bust out the solos.”  
  
She rolls her eyes and hands him one before moving along to the next group.  
  
“I’m offended.”  
  
“She’s right.”  
  
“Why do I like you, again?” Jongdae asks. They turn back to their group of friends, and Jongdae realizes Yixing’s still wearing his winter jacket. He didn’t stop to drop it off before saying hello.  
  
Yixing shrugs, blowing on the hot chocolate to cool it. “I dunno. Same reasons, I guess.”  
  
“Same reasons as what?”  
  
Instead of replying, Yixing takes a drink.  
  
“We have a few minutes left before caroling officially starts,” Baekhyun says as they get closer to their friends.  
  
“If you gotta take a leak, go now or forever hold your piss,” Jongdae says as he makes his reentry into the circle. Chanyeol and Jongin laugh as Jongdae sits back in his old seat. Yixing takes Junmyeon’s spot, and Sehun makes himself comfortable against him.  
  
“Yeah, yeah, very funny,” Baekhyun says.  
  
Once the a capella leaders pack up the questionably-legal refreshments, they urge the herd of students outdoors. Despite the good turnout of new participants, the movement goes smoothly with the help of more experienced carolers. Jongdae fishes out his earmuffs from his coat pockets as they move, reaffirming he hasn’t left anything behind or lost anything. One year, Baekhyun left their room keys behind, and the two of them came quite close to a panicked meltdown before Minseok called, keys safe with him.  
  
A chilly winter night greets them, turning their breath to visible vapor. Chanyeol bares his teeth and blows hot air for his friends to see. “I breathe fire,” Chanyeol says.  
  
“Must’ve been those cinnamon schnapps,” Sehun says, quiet enough only Jongdae and Yixing can hear. Yixing snickers, the sound producing a soft warmth in Jongdae’s chest. Jongdae ignores his own reaction on principle.  
  
Their first caroling scene is the closest shuttle stop, to the curiosity or perhaps dismay of the occupants. The group leaders start everyone off with ‘Jingle Bells.’ Jongdae can’t pick out Sehun’s voice against the mix of other students, but Yixing’s tone rings high and clear beside him. Their group gets in two more songs before the shuttle comes and carries their unwilling audience away.  
  
On the way to their next destination, the group rearranges itself, Jongin shuffling between his roommate’s a capella group and Taemin. Baekhyun and Chanyeol disappear into the crowd together. Sehun, Yixing, and Jongdae bring up the rear. Sehun waves his arm to call Junmyeon over, but Junmyeon stays a few rows of people ahead of them. “Are we not enough for you, Sehun?” Jongdae teases.  
  
“Junmyeon’s been kind of an ass lately,” Sehun says before changing the subject.  
  
Impromptu caroling bubbles up as they walk to their next stop, the student union. Jongdae keeps both hands to himself, and only permits himself the slightest bit of jealousy when Sehun links arms with Yixing. The two of them totter from side to side, belting out each verse of ‘Twelve Days of Christmas.’ Kyungsoo falls back to join them around the seventh verse, and Jongdae makes room between himself and Yixing. He’s determined to keep his distance tonight and hopes for the best.  
  
They’re not quite at their next stop when the song ends, but close enough it wouldn’t make sense to start another. “It’s so cold,” Sehun says.  
  
“It isn’t too bad,” Jongdae says. “Kyungsoo, remember last year it rained?”  
  
Kyungsoo groans. “That was awful. Almost nobody showed up, and there were even fewer people around to serenade.” He points at Sehun. “Now, that was cold.”  
  
Sehun pouts. “Well, it’s colder than I thought it would be.”  
  
Patting his arm, Yixing says. “It’s okay. Do you want my gloves?”  
  
“Yes, please.”  
  
“Okay.”  
  
The student union offers more of an audience than the shuttle stop. The carolers start off with ‘Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree,’ a few of the more exuberant singers swaying to the beat. A better crowd, and being indoors, means they can stay as long as five songs, which they do. By the end of it, Jongdae’s noticed a group of freshman at the back of the room singing along to ‘Jingle Bell Rock.’ A few of them are doing a chair-bound version of the dance from the _Mean Girls_ talent show and laughing with each other. Caroling is fun every year, but it’s little moments like this he really enjoys.  
  
Wrapping up the last song, the carolers leave to a small smattering of applause. Back outside, Sehun leans to catch someone’s eye, Jongdae suspects Junmyeon, but fails. They pass a shuttle stop. Sehun coughs into his fist, making a show of clearing his throat.  
  
“Well, I think that’s enough caroling for me,” he says. “I’ll see you guys later.”  
  
“You’re leaving?” Yixing asks. Sehun nods, backing away to the shuttle stop.  
  
“Bye, Sehun,” Kyungsoo says. Jongdae waves.  
  
A few minutes later, a shuttle passes them and the realization strikes Jongdae. “Yixing, he took your gloves.”  
  
Yixing shrugs. “I’ll get them back from him eventually. It isn’t that big a deal.”  
  
Another round of singing starts up as the group heads to carol outside the library. Halfway through the third chorus, the wind picks up, bitterly cold and dry air chafing at Jongdae’s face. He wishes he’d thought to bring lip balm.  
  
The library stop provides a bit of shelter from the wind, the steps to the second floor entrance flanked on either side by two large stone statues of the school’s animal mascot. Jongdae presses himself forward into the middle, squeezing between Chanyeol and Baekhyun. As soon as the group leaders count off ‘Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer,’ he finds himself grinning from ear to ear. Chanyeol can’t sing for shit, but he’s loud, and he’s loving it. Frankly, nobody around seems to care that he sings the cheeky additions between the official lyrics. Chanyeol’s enthusiasm extends to ‘I Have A Little Dreidel’ and provides a certain funk to ‘Silver Bells.’  
  
Three songs is about all the standing-in-one-place-while-enduring-winter-wind their group can take, because they’re soon herded on their way.  
  
“Remember, freshman year they had security escort us out of the library?” Baekhyun asks.  
  
“You guys went _inside_ the library?” Chanyeol asks. He laughs. “How were any of you allowed back in after that? I’d think that you’d be banned for life.”  
  
“We went to the coffee shop area! You can make noise there!”  
  
Jongdae grins. “We might have left the door open.”  
  
“Might is the operative word.” Baekhyun waves his free hand, the other clutching the songbook he and Chanyeol share. “Whatever. The point is security escorted us out and it was a grave injustice to me, personally.”  
  
“It was also really cool to be all delinquent, I bet,” says Chanyeol. “I’m kind of jealous I wasn’t there to be a bad boy with you guys that year.”  
  
Jongdae snorts.  
  
“This year, I’ve been an awful good boy,” Baekhyun says. Leaning his upper body towards Chanyeol, he croons, “Santa baby.”  
  
“That one’s not in the caroling book,” Jongdae says, cutting Baekhyun off before he can finish another line.  
  
Baekhyun laughs. “Not officially, anyway.”  
  
“Is ‘Grandma Got Run Over By A Reindeer’ in there?” Chanyeol asks.  
  
“No.”  
  
“It’s a fun one, though.”  
  
“Not really traditional,” Jongdae says.  
  
“And most people don’t know all the words to it.” Baekhyun shrugs. “We can sing it after, though, if you want.”  
  
“Sure.” Chanyeol pauses. “So, where are we going anyway? How many more stops?”  
  
“Just one left, I think,” Baekhyun says.  
  
Jongdae nods. “The last stop is always the president’s residence.”  
  
“Minseok told us a story once when it was a small group of carolers and it was a cold night, and the missus invited them inside for cookies.”  
  
“Really?”  
  
Baekhyun nods. “Really. But I think one of the leaders had called ahead to warn them.”  
  
“I don’t know,” Jongdae says. “I still think that was just a story. Minseok never had enough details for me to believe it was real.”  
  
“Do you think there will be cookies for us this year?” Chanyeol asks. “I’m hungry.”  
  
“Probably not.” Jongdae shrugs when Baekhyun shoots him a look. “What? It hasn’t happened since we’ve been caroling.”  
  
“All two years of it.”  
  
“See?” Jongdae says. “You’re skeptical, too.”  
  
The group of carolers cluster around the walkway to the president’s house, the group’s numbers thinned somewhat since the outset. The group reshuffles for their final performance of the evening. Baekhyun and Chanyeol move closer together, edging Jongdae off to one side. Yixing and Kyungsoo shift into their ranks. If Jongdae finds himself next to Yixing, well, that’s just a coincidence. He can’t help coincidence.  
  
From the front, Jongdae hears Amber call out ‘Here Comes Santa Claus’ as their first song. It’s peppy and fun, a drastic contrast to the solemnity of ‘Silent Night,’ the group leaders’ second choice for the evening. Unable to resist, Jongdae shows off a little bit on the longer notes, if only to see Yixing roll his eyes and smile a little when Jongdae mimes sleeping. The playful acting continues through ‘O Christmas Tree’ with stiff impressions of pines. The final song for the night is a reprise of ‘Jingle Bells,’ where Jongdae gives in to the temptation to sing unofficial lyrics. He thinks he hears Chanyeol also singing about Batman, which makes Yixing laugh and Kyungsoo sing the correct lyrics louder.  
  
Once the song has ended, the group waits to see if anyone will greet them from inside. A few minutes pass, the group beginning to dissolve, and Jongdae assumes they won’t have a visit this year either. Junmyeon makes his way through the crowd with the other a cappella leaders, thanking them for their participation and collecting songbooks into backpacks. Yeah, another no-show year from the president. Jongdae adds this experience to the growing stack of evidence against Minseok’s milk-and-cookies story.  
  
Walking back toward their dorms is rough with his most of friends in a disappointed mood, Junmyeon the worst of the bunch. “Where did Sehun go?”  
  
“He left around the student union stop,” Kyungsoo says. “I don’t know where he went.”  
  
Junmyeon frowns but says nothing, so Jongdae jumps in. “I think he had homework or something. You know, this year was a lot of fun, but it’s too bad we didn’t get to sing Baekhyun’s favorite Christmas song.” Jongdae grins. “Arguably the greatest Christmas song of all time.”  
  
“Santa Baby?” Baekhyun asks.  
  
“No,” Jongdae says flatly. He clears his throat and sings the most overwrought ‘I’ he can manage while walking.  
  
Baekhyun and Kyungsoo’s eyes widen, immediately chiming in, “Don’t want a lot for Christmas.”  
  
By the next lyric, everyone is singing, and Junmyeon’s perked up. “There is just one thing I need.”  
  
Their volume grows with each line, gestures and facial expressions over-the-top as they reach the end of the song’s introduction. “Make my wish come true.” Jongdae clutches at the front of his jacket, twisting his face up with as much emotion as he can muster.  
  
“All I want, for Christmas…is….” The group waits for everyone to finish drawing out the last few syllables before chorusing, “You.”  
  
The rest of the song is just as fun, dividing themselves up so each part gets covered, scatting the instrumental breaks, trying to out-do each other on high notes and embellishments. It’s a perfect way to lighten the mood.  
  
By the end of it, they’re dancing or otherwise jamming out and embarrassing each other with group serenades. Junmyeon is first up, then Kyungsoo, then Baekhyun, all around the circle. Yixing’s the last person they serenade. Yixing looks back at them, saving Jongdae for last when he breaks into dimple-studded, carefree laughter at the last screaming-high iteration of “Baby, all I want for Christmas is you.”  
  
It strikes Jongdae then how much that sentiment resonates within him as he races his friends to the high note. A month since they stopped fooling around, a month in limbo, and every day since has felt odd. Like it was the wrong choice.  
  
He thinks he knows, now, what he’ll do when Yixing confesses. If Yixing confesses, Jongdae corrects himself. You can’t admit feelings that aren’t there.  
  
“You, baby!”  
  
They’ve stopped serenading each other, though their singing stays strong even as they approach the point where they’ll all break off toward their own ways home. Baekhyun’s swinging his arms and snapping his fingers to the beat, embarking on a fruitless effort to get Kyungsoo to join him. Yixing and Jongdae exchange another look, more conspiratorial than usual, before joining Baekhyun in his hopeless quest.  
  
“All I want for Christmas!”  
  
The song devolves into laughter, the night’s caroling coming to a close. “Good choice for encore,” Junmyeon says.  
  
Jongdae puffs with pride. “Thanks.”  
  
“Does anyone want to come with me to bring these back to the music department?” Junmyeon hefts his backpack by the shoulder straps.  
  
“I’m headed that way anyway,” Yixing says. Jongdae’s eyes flick over to meet Yixing’s silent apology. Apology for what? “This was a lot of fun. I wish I had done this sooner.”  
  
Baekhyun grins. “Too bad you can’t come back next year.”  
  
“Maybe next year the president will give us cookies,” Chanyeol says.  
  
Jongdae doesn’t want Yixing to leave yet. “We’ll see you later?”  
  
Yixing nods. “Maybe if Junmyeon will throw together a holiday party….” His voice trails off as he looks to Junmyeon for confirmation.  
  
“You guys, I can’t host one this year. I’m swamped with work. Work that I could be doing right now.” He takes a step in the direction of the music department. “Let’s go, Yixing. Goodnight, everyone.”  
  
Jongdae watches them go for a few steps before tuning back into the conversation at hand. “…a surprise holiday party at his place,” Chanyeol’s saying.  
  
“Wouldn’t that involve some form of breaking and entering?” Kyungsoo asks.  
  
“Oh, maybe.”  
  
“Then it’s probably for the best we don’t do that.”  
  
Chanyeol sighs and his hand finds Baekhyun’s as they walk. “You’re probably right.” Jongdae looks away and wishes Yixing had come with them, not that it would make a difference.


	28. December - 2AM

As the hour drags on, his notes run together, the dates and events not linking up with each other the way they should. Yixing would help. Yixing would have notecards and a mnemonic trick up his sleeve. Jongdae glances at his phone on his desk and wonders if Yixing’s awake. He hopes not. Yixing should be asleep. It is an exam week after all. He needs his rest.  
  
It’s then, at just past two in the morning the night before his military history final exam, does he understand. “Oh, my god.”  
  
“What is it?” Baekhyun asks, shifting in his desk chair. Jongdae looks over his shoulder to see Baekhyun’s taken off his headphones and turned around in his seat. “Another page of your notes missing?”  
  
“No, not my notes,” Jongdae says with a slow shake his head. “It’s just…Baekhyun, his whole time, I’ve been wrong.”  
  
“Surprise,” Baekhyun says with a smug grin, which Jongdae ignores. “What about?”  
  
“I….” He doesn’t really want to tell Baekhyun, afraid his friend might not let him live it down for at least two weeks. Maybe longer. It’s too embarrassing to Jongdae for Baekhyun not to tease. “It’s hard to say.”  
  
“Go on, give it a try. You’re always good at coming up with something.”  
  
“You know what?” Jongdae tries backpedaling. “Forget it. It’s not important.”  
  
Baekhyun drops his chin to rest on the back of his hand. “Nothing unimportant makes you gasp like a goldfish at two in the fucking morning on a Tuesday night.”  
  
“Technically, it’s Wednesday right now.”  
  
“Jongdae.”  
  
Jongdae whines, letting his head fall forward until his forehead presses against his notes. For a moment, he wonders if the ink will transfer to his skin, but the notes are weeks old. He’s safe, for now. “Okay, but you can’t make fun of me.”  
  
“I’m offended you would think that I would take advantage of you in such a tender state.”  
  
Jongdae groans again, turning his head so one cheek presses against the paper. “Baekhyun, please.”  
  
“Alright, alright. I promise I won’t make fun of you and I promise I won’t tell Chanyeol. See? Above and beyond the call of duty.”  
  
When Jongdae doesn’t immediately respond, Baekhyun wheedles him with variations on “Come on, Jongdae, tell me!” until he breaks.  
  
“Okay, fine! I’ll tell you.” Baekhyun quiets on command. “It’s about Yixing.”  
  
“Oh, good. This sounds promising.”  
  
Jongdae sits up, takes a breath, and turns in his seat. “Okay.” He closes his eyes and exhales, opening them to hook one arm over the back of his chair. “So, remember how we were pretty sure he liked me?”  
  
“It boggles the mind, but yes.”  
  
“Well, I’m pretty sure we were right. And then I kept thinking like, ‘so what?’ you know? Like, why do I care so much?”  
  
Baekhyun blinks. “Are you serious?”  
  
“Are you going to let me tell you or not? I can stop anytime and save myself the embarrassment, you know.”  
  
“I’m pretty sure I know where this is going, but fire away.”  
  
Jongdae squints at him. “What do you mean, know where this is going?”  
  
“Just keep talking.”  
  
“Okay.” Jongdae takes a deep breath again, bypassing all the intricacies of his deductive reasoning that might come back to haunt him later. Baekhyun doesn’t need to know the details. “I think…I like him back.”  
  
Baekhyun blinks in the silence that follows. “And?”  
  
“And what? Isn’t that enough of a surprise?”  
  
Massaging his temples, Baekhyun sighs. “I forget how obtuse you can be sometimes.” He purses his lips. “Remember when you guys first hooked up and I told you that you were being asinine?”  
  
“I don’t see your point.”  
  
“When this all started, when you guys hooked up at the beginning of the semester, I told you it wasn’t sustainable. I told you someone was gonna want more than just casual sex between friends.”  
  
Jongdae frowns. “That doesn’t apply. This part didn’t start until after we ended it.”  
  
“Look me in the eye and tell me you honestly believe that.” Baekhyun meets his eyes. “Go ahead, lie right to my face.”  
  
Blinking mid-sentence, Jongdae says, “I’m not lying!”  
  
Baekhyun shakes his head, clucking his tongue in pity. “Come on, Jongdae. I know you better than that.”  
  
Opening his mouth to reply, Jongdae finds himself with a swell of memories and a loss for words. Each time he thinks he’s found an infallible argument, his memory reminds him of moments tucked away in the spread of heartbeats, the private smiles and quiet jokes.  
  
There are things he can’t describe, things he doesn’t want to share with Baekhyun. The quiet satisfaction of laying in bed with Yixing between rounds of sex. The running coffee tab between them. The way making Yixing laugh can be the best part of Jongdae’s day. Divulging any of it feels too intimate, like it’s not just Jongdae’s secret to share.  
  
“I know Yixing better than that, too.”  
  
Jongdae cringes and covers his face with one hand. “I’m not going to say it.”  
  
“Well, if you’re not going to say it to me, then at least say it to him.” Baekhyun turns back around. “Don’t wait for him to go first.” He picks up his headphones, pausing before putting them on. “Or do I have to explain why, too?”  
  
“Alright, alright. I get it.” Jongdae watches Baekhyun get back into his studying groove before turning back to his work. He flips to a blank page in his notebook and re-copies important dates from his study guide. It’s easier this time, maybe because he knows how to handle thoughts of Yixing now that he’s got a label for them. Instead of pushing them away, he lets them come and go as he focuses.  
  
A label isn’t a plan of action, but it helps. It’ll see him through the last few hours of tests, but then Baekhyun will leave, taking Chanyeol with him, and Jongdae will be on his own.  
  
Well, he’ll be on his own with Yixing, which is terrifying and wonderful all at once.


	29. December - Last chance

After his military history exam, Jongdae takes a winding walk back to his dorm with his umbrella protecting him against the lackluster weather. His last exam of the semester went as well as he could have hoped. If he manages to snag an internship for the spring, he figures he’ll be able to handle the workload. And the next fall semester, his final fall semester of undergrad, he’ll be running an extracurricular group and working a job and managing his coursework and working on his senior thesis…. He snorts, Junmyeon’s phrasing about adjusting to the lack of breathing room resurfacing in the back of his mind.  
  
Stepping in a puddle of freezing cold rain, Jongdae grits his teeth. The cold would be bearable if it would just snow already. Something about the pristine white powder covering campus, the glow of it under the yellow street lamps, it makes the chill worthwhile. Even when he has to shovel, the snow still looks pretty floating down from the sky.  
  
His mind betrays him with a quick daydream of goofing around with Yixing on a snow-covered quad, tossing scooped-together snowballs around. In his mind’s eye, he can see Yixing’s cheeks pink with the effort, pink with the cold. His dimple features prominently when he laughs after hitting Jongdae with a well-aimed throw. Maybe they’d build a snowman together, if there’s enough of that sticky, heavy snow accumulation on the ground. If not, there’s always snow angels and sledding, not that Jongdae has a sled on campus. He doubts they’d fit on one, anyway.  
  
In the privacy of his own mind, Jongdae begrudges to admit Baekhyun’s right. If he waits for Yixing to approach him, he’ll be waiting too long. He’ll have to be the one to suggest they try again, though this time their method will be different. This time, he won’t have to push away inklings and suspicions until their numbers swell, too many to deny. This time, it’ll work out for both of them the way they want.  
  
Jongdae waits for the intersection to clear before crossing the street. Boyfriends is a weird word, but Jongdae thinks it’s the best fit. Assuming they both want it, of course. He has no reason to doubt it.  
  
Except he does, because if Yixing wanted them to start dating, wouldn’t he have asked out Jongdae earlier? Unless Yixing was waiting until he was sure that Jongdae liked him back. But that answer still doesn’t satisfy Jongdae, maybe because he can’t believe they’ve both been so stubborn in their myopia for so long.  
  
He laughs at himself, a snorting chuckle mostly absorbed the scarf wrapped around his neck and chin. His high school English teacher would congratulate him for remembering a vocabulary word, though he’s not sure he’s used it properly. Is it myopic to refuse to admit you’re in love, and have been for about three months? No, no, probably not. There’s another word for that kind of thing, he’s sure of it.  
  
Denial comes to mind, in a tone that startles Jongdae with how much it reminds him of Baekhyun.  
  
Jongdae pulls out his phone to check the time. A quarter to four. He figures he can make his way back to his dorm. The majority of Baekhyun’s winter break packing should be done by now. Baekhyun prohibits him from helping, and if Jongdae can’t help, he’s never sure what to do with himself. Sitting there while his best friend shoves socks and underwear into an overloaded suitcase feels too much like slacking. Then again, his suitcase wouldn’t be fit to burst if Baekhyun wouldn’t permanently borrow his friends’ clothes. Jongdae hopes to remember that tidbit for the next time Baekhyun complains about packing. Maybe he’ll get a pair of his jeans back.  
  
When he returns to his dorm, Baekhyun’s suitcase sits packed on the floor beside his bed but Jongdae’s roommate is nowhere to be found. Glad he hasn’t missed Baekhyun’s departure, he leaves his outerwear, umbrella, and shoes their door to contain the mess from outside.  
  
The rental textbooks stacked on his desk remind him he has a few errands left to run before he’s free for winter break. He ignores them for the time being to pull out his phone and flop belly-first on his bed. Shooting a “where u at” text to Baekhyun, Jongdae defaults to checking his usual circuit of social media before arriving at the inevitable text message to Yixing.  
  
Getting into this mess was easy. Starting over into a different sort of mess, well, it shouldn’t be too complicated. Nothing more than their friendship at stake, but hey, they’ve already put that on the line once.  
  
jongdae [04:12PM]:  
Hey do you wanna grab coffee tomorrow around 3?  
  
jongdae [04:12PM]:  
I have something I kinda wanna talk about in person before break  
  
jongdae [04:13PM]:  
I’m flexible about time too, so if like, lunch or something would be better, lemme know  
  
Torn between staring at his phone until he gets a reply and hiding it under his pillow so he won’t hear it beep with the incoming text, Jongdae settles for the midway point of leaving it on his desk. He comes out of the bathroom to a reply, jogging over to check the sender.  
  
baekhyun [04:15PM]:  
I’m out with Chanyeol but thanks for checking on me mom  
  
jongdae [04:16PM]:  
Wow sorry if I wanted to say goodbye to my best friend before we leave campus for 3 weeks  
  
baekhyun [04:16PM]:  
Lol I know ♥♥♥  
  
baekhyun [04:16PM]:  
Be back later  
  
Jongdae sets his phone back down. Maybe he’ll nap or marathon something on Netflix. He’s got nowhere else to be, nothing more to do today. He grabs his laptop, moving to lounge on his bed as he queues up a Netflix original series.  
  
A few minutes into the second episode, his phone beeps on his desk. Jongdae brings his laptop with him when he gets up.  
  
It’s from Yixing. He takes a breath for luck and opens the message, palms hot.  
  
yixing [05:21PM]:  
Yeah, I just finished my last final today so I’m completely free tomorrow :) my treat this time! I hope you haven’t forgotten lol  
  
Clutching his phone, Jongdae sits on his bed.  
  
jongdae [05:22PM]:  
I haven’t. See you then!  
  
He lays back against his mattress and closes his eyes, his hopes stacked high on his chest to keep his heart from beating out of his ribcage.


	30. December - Stolen

Jongdae leaves his dorm fifteen minutes before he’s supposed to meet Yixing at the coffee shop near the music department. The journey across part of campus is less of a cheerful afternoon stroll and more of a trek fraught with anticipation. He flips up the hood of his coat as clouds churn overhead, threatening precipitation over the deserted campus. A few leftover leaves and hunks of rock salt crunch on the campus walkways beneath Jongdae’s feet. Jongdae supposes stepping on salt is better than slipping on ice.  
  
As he rounds a corner, a gust of dry, cold air cuts through him. Jongdae shoves his hands into his coat pockets and clenches his fists, wishing he’d remembered to grab his gloves from his desk. The cold helps to dispel his anxiety until the coffee shop comes into view. It spurs the jumble of excitement and nerves he calls his stomach to spin.  
  
Luckily, or maybe not, he’s the only other person in the shop besides the bored freshman behind the counter. He’s more conspicuous waiting alone in a slow-moving shop and more likely to be overheard despite the cheerful Christmas background music piping through the speakers. A lack of other customers also means there will be fewer witnesses to watch him get shot down if Jongdae has been reading the signals wrong. But he’s here, he’s made his decision, and ready or not, it’s time to see it through to the end.  
  
While he waits, Jongdae takes a seat in a green armchair by the brick hearth. The small electric candles in the fake log makes an attempt at festive lighting, the flickering pattern of the candles too even to emulate firelight well. He assumes a real log fire, albeit cozy, would violate the building’s fire code.  
  
He perks up when the door chimes and deflates when a group of young women he doesn’t recognize walk in. Jongdae checks his phone for the time and watches it change to 3PM. The hour ushers in the thought: he should have spent yesterday perfecting what to say instead of marathoning Netflix after Baekhyun left.  
  
“Hey, am I late?”  
  
Jongdae jumps to his feet, shoving his phone into his pocket. “Hi! No, you’re fine.”  
  
Yixing must have followed the group in. The cold wind outside stained pink the tips of Yixing’s ears and nose. “Okay.” Yixing unzips his coat, a soft-looking knit sweater becoming visible beneath it. “You haven’t ordered yet, right?”  
  
“I was waiting for you.”  
  
“Good. I hoped you’d say that.” Yixing dumps his coat in the chair beside Jongdae. “Your usual?”  
  
“Sure.”  
  
Yixing nods with a grin. “Be right back.”  
  
Waiting in line behind the last of the young women, Yixing pinches his bottom lip between his thumb and forefinger, reading over the menu as if he doesn’t already know what he’s going to order. A few of the girls spare him a second glance, but they move away to the far side of the little shop. The distance feels big enough for Jongdae to consider it a buffer zone between quiet conversations. If this conversation ends up going down in flames, at least Yixing (and maybe the barista) will be the only one to bear witness to his failure.  
  
Jongdae grits his teeth. He can’t think like that. He needs to believe it’s going to go well, or at least, that it won’t interfere with their friendship anymore than fucking has.  
  
By comparison, this should be easy.  
  
Yixing sits back in his seat. “It should be a few minutes before our drinks are ready,” he says. The shadows around his eyes look faded, like he’s caught up on a few hours of the sleep final exams sap from students.  
  
“How did the rest of your finals go? Your performances?”  
  
One of the machines behind the coffee bar starts churning as the barista works on an order. “Pretty good. Just one performance this semester, and as accompaniment, which went well. How about you?”  
  
“Well, I survived.” Jongdae shrugs. “I don’t know if you can tell.”  
  
“I can,” Yixing says with a snort of amusement.  
  
“Then maybe I don’t look as chewed up and spat out by higher education as Baekhyun let on yesterday.”  
  
Yixing shakes his head. “No, definitely not. He left yesterday, right?”  
  
“Right.”  
  
“So did Chanyeol.” Jongdae raises his eyebrows. “How many times do you think they’ll see each other over break? Once a week?”  
  
“At least one time the whole break. Maybe on New Year’s.”  
  
Jongdae chuckles. “That makes the most sense, I guess. When are you going home?”  
  
“Tomorrow afternoon.”  
  
“Oh, my parents are coming to pick me up then, too.” The barista calls out Jongdae’s, then Yixing’s, usual coffee order. “That was quick.” He stands, motioning for Yixing to stay seated when Yixing moves to get to his feet. “No, no, I’ll get them.”  
  
“Are you sure?”  
  
“I’ve got two capable hands.” He squeezes the air with his fingers, pleased at Yixing’s amusement. “Just relax,” Jongdae says and wishes he could take his own advice. He thanks the barista when he takes the cups from the counter. No matter how careful Jongdae handles the to-go cups, some of the drink inside always manages to splash up or bubble out of a hole in the lid. This trip to and from the coffee bar is no exception. “Sorry about that,” he says, nodding at the drips when he hands Yixing his drink.  
  
Yixing shrugs and slurps up the coffee on the lid. Jongdae aches to take the place of the flimsy white plastic. “No problem,” Yixing says. “All clean.”  
  
“Nice.” Jongdae sits.  
  
“So, um…” Yixing looks at Jongdae before trailing off and looking out the window.  
  
Jongdae takes a breath. “What I wanted to talk about.”  
  
“Yeah. Is it bad?”  
  
A sip of coffee buys Jongdae an extra couple seconds. “I don’t know.”  
  
“Like, are you transferring? Or maybe you failed all your classes.”  
  
“No!” Jongdae frowns. “I don’t have my grades back yet, okay, don’t joke about that.”  
  
Yixing laughs. “Okay. I’m sure your GPA survived this semester.”  
  
Nervous laughter fades away, and they’re left gazing at each other in the relative quiet of the coffee shop. Yixing breaks eye contact first, looking down to take a drink. Jongdae sighs and looks through the window to the bleak campus outside. The lull in conversation hurts. Jongdae knows what he’d like to say to fill it, with all the questions he’d like answers to, but the words don’t feel quite right. He worries the inside of his cheek.  
  
“Oh, is it snowing?”  
  
“What?” Jongdae shifts his focus and sure enough, little snowflakes fall from the sky instead of rain. “Finally.” He lets himself watch for a few more seconds before taking a breath. “Okay, I think I just need to start talking.”  
  
“Okay.” Yixing cups his hands around the coffee. “I’m listening.”  
  
There’s a pressure on his chest and his stomach feels like it’s wringing itself out. Jongdae exhales, unexpectedly shaky. “Yeah,” he says. His tongue sticks in his dry mouth. He takes a drink. “Since we, since the beginning of November, things have been weird, yeah?”  
  
“Kinda, yeah.”  
  
“I think it’s fair to say that I haven’t been honest with you. And I think it’s fair to say, you haven’t been forthright with me, either.” This could be out of line, and it isn’t the way Jongdae hoped he’d start the conversation. “Would you agree?”  
  
Slowly, Yixing nods.  
  
“I guess, when this all started, the no-strings-attached rule was already broken. And, when we stopped, when I realized that, it went from ‘I wouldn’t mind’ to ‘I really want to’ so quickly.”  
  
“Wait a minute.” Yixing furrows his brow and lowers his coffee cup. “What do you mean?”  
  
Jongdae sucks air between his teeth and holds it for a beat while a he waits for a jolt of laughter from across the shop to subside. “I mean, when I realized you had feelings for me, I didn’t stop like I was supposed to.”  
  
“It was the same for me.”  
  
Blinking, Jongdae sits back. “Woah. What?”  
  
“No, sorry,” Yixing says, amusement flickering across his face. “Go on. I’m interrupting.”  
  
“This is so confusing.” Jongdae leans forward, resting his forearms over his knees. “You know what? Here it is in plain words.” He lets out a puff of air between pursed lips. “I think you like me. I think you ended up wanting more than sex from our…arrangement. And now, I think I want to give that a try.”  
  
“Oh.”  
  
It isn’t the reaction Jongdae hoped for, so he sits back, waiting to watch this friendship end in a mess of blunt assumptions. “Or we could forget what I’ve said in the past five minutes and pretend this semester never happened.”  
  
The mirth fades from Yixing’s face with the slow downturn at the corners of his mouth. Jongdae wishes he could shove the words back into his throat, swallowing them like a cat’s-eye marble to rest uneasy in the pit of his stomach where the only person they can hurt is him alone.  
  
“I don’t want to pretend anymore.” Yixing ponders for a moment, Jongdae gulping his drink to stop himself from saying anything further. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but was this your idea of a coffee date?”  
  
Jongdae chokes a little, dribbling coffee. “Maybe.” He wipes his chin with the butt of his palm. “It’s first date if you want it to be.”  
  
A slow smile breaks, the dimple in Yixing’s cheek growing deeper the wider he grins. “I can do that. Can you?”  
  
“I asked you here, didn’t I?” They gaze at each other for a still moment before breaking into a fit of relieved laughter together. “So, I guess we’re dating now, or something.”  
  
Yixing flashes his eyebrows. “Or something?”  
  
“No, we’re dating,” Jongdae says. He sets his halfway empty cup on the small table sandwiched between their armchairs. “This is going way better than I could have imagined.”  
  
Yixing shrugs. “Well, yeah. I figure you’ve been in love with me since, what, mid-October?” He lifts his cup to take a sip. “Am I wrong?”  
  
“Your timing is a bit off,” Jongdae says, laughing.  
  
“I don’t think so.” Yixing shakes his head. “You’re the one who fell for me first.”  
  
“No, I’m pretty sure you were seduced by my many charms.”  
  
Yixing chuckles into his coffee cup. “If you remember, I was the one who seduced you.”  
  
Jongdae laughs again. “Really?” His cheeks ache from the sheer force of his wide smile. “Must have been because you wanted me for my aforementioned charms.”  
  
“Oh, you think so?” Yixing asks, lighthearted. “Name one.”  
  
“Besides the fact I suck cock like a champion, you mean?” A slower song comes through the shop speakers, an instrumental jazz version of a holiday song. The sudden change makes Jongdae feel like he announced it to the whole store. At least, the barista is staring at him. Heat floods his cheeks, so he does his best to pitch his voice with the music. “Because I’m sure that was enough to make you fall for me instantly.”  
  
Yixing laughs. “Sex isn’t the same as love, but I guess your blowjobs come close.”  
  
Jongdae rolls his eyes. “Gee, thanks.”  
  
“You’re welcome.” Yixing looks so pleased with himself, Jongdae can’t help but smile, too. He doesn’t want to stop.  
  
“Hey.” Jongdae motions Yixing closer. When Yixing slides forward in his armchair, Jongdae leans in and says, “Kiss me.”  
  
Yixing’s eyes drop to his mouth for a moment. “Here?”  
  
“Yes.” Jongdae licks his lips. “I’m not going to see you for a month.”  
  
Their eyes meet again. Yixing tilts his head to one side. “True. But your roommate is gone.”  
  
He knows where this is going. “My roommate is gone, and neither of us leave until tomorrow.”  
  
Yixing inhales and pulls back. “Better get our coats, then.”  
  
“That’s right,” Jongdae says, a corner of his mouth tugging into a lopsided smile. “We’ve got some catching up to do.” Yixing smiles back, excited and honest, and Jongdae’s chest tightens with excitement.  
  
Outside, the frail snowflakes have grown into thicker clumps of snow falling from the darkening sky. They settle atop the dusting of finer snow already covering the campus. If anyone still around stares when Yixing’s and Jongdae’s fingers lace together, Jongdae doesn’t notice. His focus remains on a single person, whose happiness parallels Jongdae’s own. The hand squeezing his serves well as an emotional barometer. Each step brings them closer to the kind of privacy they both denied themselves for a month, the kind of privacy they won’t have until they return from break.  
  
A family Jongdae doesn’t know waits in the lobby of Jongdae’s dorm. Jongdae makes polite small-talk with them while he and Yixing unzip their jackets and wait for the elevator. It takes too long to arrive, but when it does, it’s blessedly empty.  
  
Once they’re within the privacy of the elevator, four weeks’ worth of yearning combusts in an instant. Jongdae presses Yixing against the elevator wall, their eyes falling closed at the first touch of lips. Yixing’s arms wrap around Jongdae, clinging to each other as they relearn the meaning of a kiss. To think Jongdae gave this up, gave up Yixing and his yielding mouth, Yixing and his broad hands squeezing tight…he hopes not to make that mistake again.  
  
The ding of the machine announcing Jongdae’s floor comes far too quickly for either of them. When the elevator door slides open, Jongdae steps back, dazed and breathless as the first time they kissed. He takes Yixing by the hand and leads him to the room. Jongdae fumbles with his keys when Yixing’s hands bracket his hips from behind. Yixing presses his lips in soft and insistent kisses over the back of Jongdae’s neck and the shell of his ear.  
  
Jongdae manages to open his room and Yixing follows him inside. “Shut the—,” Jongdae begins to say, but Yixing’s already closing the door. The lock clicks into place, leaving them to each other.  
  
The temptation to launch himself at Yixing exists, palpable in the charged air between them. Instead, Jongdae steps back, putting a hand on Yixing’s shoulder to maintain a physical connection. “You always wanted me to go slow,” Jongdae says, pushing Yixing’s coat off to one side.  
  
“I did,” Yixing says, shrugging out of it. “Still do.”  
  
Jongdae grins, taking off his own jacket. “We have some time now.” He extends his hand to accept Yixing’s, hanging them up. “So let’s use it all.” It’s a bit awkward fumbling with shoes and attempting to convey a deliberate speed, but they manage. When Yixing reaches to strip off his knit sweater, Jongdae stops him.  
  
“What?” Yixing says, letting Jongdae guide his hands to his sides.  
  
“Can I…?”  
  
Yixing nods, relaxing as Jongdae runs his hands from the collar of his sweater down to his wrists. He’s firm under the soft material. Jongdae presses a palm to Yixing’s firm chest, appreciating the hitch in breathing as he moves his hand lower in one slow slide. His fingers curl under the hem of the sweater. He hikes it up, and the flimsy tee beneath it, fingertips seeking warm skin to scratch.  
  
Jongdae’s self-control wanes the longer he lets himself touch. When he lifts the sweater, the shirt goes with it, and Yixing helps strip it from his body. He tosses them, sweater and V-neck tangled together inside-out, in the direction of Baekhyun’s bed.  
  
With Yixing shirtless before him, Jongdae reaches out to touch. Yixing grabs his wrists. “You next.”  
  
It’s the same process, Jongdae stilling under Yixing’s hands, letting them wander until Yixing decides to relieve Jongdae of his henley. It goes the way of Yixing’s clothes, thrown aside and forgotten.  
  
They play at touching each other, tentative and cautious as though one might break and the other might scare. Fingers spread in fond caress, leaving goosebumps in their wake. They trace from freckle to freckle as if to connect the dark dots on each other’s bodies with meaning. Jongdae taps the marks on Yixing’s cheek, and Yixing’s thumb presses under Jongdae’s jaw. There is nowhere else to touch but Yixing, nowhere else to gaze but at Yixing’s eyes. Warm, magnificent, and endless brown.  
  
To kiss Yixing on the mouth would interject a foreign phrase beyond the language of the moment. The shaky breaths, the gentle touches, he’s never been with someone this way. To be touched, and to make shiver. To touch, and to feel fragile.  
  
The snap of a button bursts the quiet of the dorm. The zipper chugs down the chain, powered by Jongdae’s hand as it clatters over each tooth. Yixing’s jeans shuffle to the floor. He steps out of them when Jongdae leads him to sit on his bed. “Close your eyes,” Jongdae says, the sound of his voice odd to his own ears.  
  
Yixing obeys. Jongdae divests himself of his pants, his socks. Crouched low, he pulls Yixing’s socks off, too, before standing and racing his fingers up Yixing’s legs. Both of them now clad in underwear alone, Jongdae straddles Yixing’s thighs. Yixing’s hands find Jongdae’s hips, holding him steady when Jongdae starts to lean. Careful of Yixing’s neck, Jongdae dips his head to kiss each freckle and scar across Yixing’s chest and collarbones. He kisses on Yixing’s upper arms and shoulders. Yixing giggles when Jongdae leans in for the mark on his thin earlobe, and he quiets when Jongdae spends a few seconds pressing his lips to each freckle on Yixing’s cheeks.  
  
One freckle remains unkissed on Yixing’s face, delicate and easy to miss at the bottom corner of Yixing’s mouth. This one Jongdae presses the pads of two fingers against, Yixing’s lips parting to let Jongdae’s fingers slide in. He suckles them both, tongue flicking between them and curling around each finger. Then Jongdae removes them to let his mouth follow in their stead.  
  
Yixing remains as soft and yielding beneath Jongdae as he could hope, lips opening sweetly at the imperfect suggestion of Jongdae’s tongue. Jongdae can taste faint flavors from coffee earlier still stuck in Yixing’s mouth.  
  
Warm, broad hands slide from Jongdae’s hips to his lower back, pulling him in closer, and Jongdae shifts forward to wrap his arms around Yixing’s shoulders. Chest to chest, Jongdae sits centered over Yixing’s hips, the first stir of Yixing’s arousal pressing against the curve of Jongdae’s ass. Yixing sighs against Jongdae’s lips, a hot puff of breath when they come up for air.  
  
Jongdae takes advantage of the brief interlude, nuzzling and kissing across the bridge of Yixing’s nose. He winds a path back to Yixing’s mouth for another exchange. Their breaths mingle before the press of their lips, their tongues lazy like magma flow and punctuated by soft noises of pleasure.  
  
When Jongdae’s cock twitches in his underwear, he tilts his hips to rub against Yixing. They grind against each other through the fabric, taking their time to enjoy the slow push and pull of hips. Yixing squeezes at Jongdae’s sides, at the softness that Jongdae can never seem to melt away in the gym. Jongdae shivers and shifts one hand to cradle Yixing’s cheek. His other hand he drops to run his fingernails up the center of Yixing’s upper back. Arching with Jongdae’s touch, Yixing’s mouth relaxes further, and Jongdae indulges them both with a deeper kiss.  
  
One of Yixing’s hands slips between them, straying not beneath any waistband but to rearrange his own erection so it might press against Jongdae’s as they grind. At the first press through the fabric, Yixing’s shuddering moan resonates in Jongdae’s bones. Jongdae resolves to remove the fabric, to feel firm and aching want against firm and aching want, even if he has to stop kissing Yixing for a minute.  
  
The air is too cold against Jongdae’s mouth where Yixing’s tongue once pressed, too cold against the palm that once cradled Yixing’s cheek. Jongdae pulls back, trying to discard his underwear still astride Yixing, but it’s futile. With a sigh, he slides off the bed and tugs his waistband to the floor.  
  
Naked, Jongdae sinks to his knees before Yixing, pushing open his knees and planting himself between Yixing’s thighs.  
  
Voice cracking, Yixing says, “I’ve missed this.”  
  
Jongdae looks up, hands converging at the apex of Yixing’s legs. Yixing watches him, face in high flush, sleepy dark eyes as hazy as Jongdae feels. Yixing licks Jongdae’s favorite pair of lips, wet and kiss-swollen, how Jongdae likes them. “I’ve missed this, too,” Jongdae says.  
  
“Is that so?” Yixing says, eyes crinkling with amusement. His chuckle, breathy and clipped, betrays his anticipation.  
  
The fingers curling over Yixing’s waistband pull back, drawing taut the fabric tenting over Yixing’s dick. “You don’t believe me?” Jongdae pouts. Yixing laughs again, and Jongdae can’t help but smile. “Better show you, then.” Tilting his head, Jongdae mouths at the head of Yixing’s cock through the fabric.  
  
With a sharp inhale, Yixing’s hands fist on Jongdae’s sheets. “Oh, shit.”  
  
Jongdae takes his time with broad, flat licks of his tongue against the shaft and suckling on the head. It doesn’t taste like much. The fabric feels rough on his tongue, even when he soaks it with his wet mouth. But Yixing, panting and groaning, resisting pulling off his underwear and fucking into Jongdae’s mouth, makes it more than worthwhile.  
  
Once Yixing’s underwear is well-drenched courtesy of Jongdae, Jongdae lifts his head to remove the piece and toss it aside. Instead of resuming his endeavors, Jongdae pushes at Yixing’s torso. “Lay back on my bed.” Yixing moves back, pulling up his legs and scooting on the bed. Jongdae joins him, once again straddling Yixing’s legs. “Good.” Jongdae crawls forward and drops his head down to press his lips to Yixing’s mouth. With his teeth, he tugs at Yixing’s bottom lip before moving down to press his mouth between Yixing’s collarbones, the first detour in a trail back down to Yixing’s cock.  
  
Jongdae makes a second detour to Yixing’s nipple, leaving it puffy and hard once he finishes sucking and laving at it with his tongue.  
  
The third stop Jongdae spends on the other side of Yixing’s torso, kissing the freckles on Yixing’s side and enjoying the way Yixing threads his fingers through Jongdae’s hair. Jongdae stops counting after that, the spots on Yixing’s body that Jongdae kisses and nips and licks before returning to Yixing’s hips and the hardened, flushed penis awaiting him there.  
  
Settling himself between Yixing’s legs, Jongdae looks toward Yixing’s face. “Can I watch you?” Yixing says, craning his head.  
  
Jongdae grins and he holds Yixing’s cock at the base. “Yes.”  
  
“Okay, let me just….” Yixing trails off as he pushes himself up on his elbows. “Okay.”  
  
Jongdae makes a lazy stroke with his hand. “Use my pillows if you get tired.” He meets Yixing’s gaze and grazes the head of Yixing’s dick with the tip of his tongue. It’s a glancing hit, Jongdae’s tongue spending more time not tasting Yixing than licking him. Jongdae makes another teasing pass, this time fluttering the tip of his tongue against Yixing’s slit before moving his head away.  
  
Yixing groans in frustration, a quiet and desperate noise from his throat, and Jongdae grants his wish. He sucks the whole fat head of Yixing’s dick into his mouth, hollowing his cheeks and rolling his tongue around the ridge. Beads of precum gush into Jongdae’s mouth, a sharper taste than cock alone, and Jongdae exaggerates swallowing with a few pulsing presses of his lips. Jongdae’s efforts earn him a muttered “Fuck” from Yixing, a reaction Jongdae seeks again as he pushes his mouth down Yixing’s shaft. Jongdae’s head and hand move in tandem, providing the tight, wet friction Yixing seeks.  
  
Sucking Yixing off, Jongdae lets his tongue wander. He rolls it over the head and rubs it against the frenulum. He digs into the slit and curls his tongue flat against Yixing’s shaft. He wants to taste every bit of Yixing’s cock, swallowing it down until its head pokes the back of his throat and Jongdae gags around it.  
  
A string of spit trails from Jongdae’s mouth to Yixing’s dick, breaking as he pulls further away. Jongdae lets his hand resume a majority of the stroking while he lets his mouth maintain the top third. He flicks his eyes back up to Yixing, pleased to find Yixing still watching him, Yixing’s bottom lip caught between his teeth.  
  
Jongdae pulls his mouth off, his hand gliding all the way up the shaft and wetting his fingers with his own spit. Yixing’s cock remains hot and firm in his grip. Jongdae rubs his thumb against the underside of Yixing’s shaft, Yixing’s pulse prominent there beneath the velvet-smooth skin. “Can I eat you out?” Jongdae asks, reaching with his other hand to tug at his own untouched cock.  
  
Yixing blinks, dazed. His mouth moves a few times before words come out. “What?”  
  
With a sigh of amusement, Jongdae plants both his hands on Yixing’s shoulders, pushing him flat against his mattress. “Eat you out.” Jongdae readjusts them on the bed, pushing up Yixing’s legs until he’s almost folded back on himself and his ass is on display. Jongdae squeezes the back of Yixing’s thighs, ducking his head to lick over Yixing’s balls and the small, raised seam of flesh that lines his perineum.  
  
“Oh, yes,” Yixing says, before repeating the phrase in a pleading rasp as Jongdae’s tongue nears the tight whorl of his asshole. But Jongdae veers away at the last moment, licking the soft, flat cheek instead.  
  
He sets Yixing’s hips back down, tapping one side. “Roll over while I get the condoms,” Jongdae says.  
  
With a huff, Yixing log rolls to one side once Jongdae clears the bed. “Now is probably a good time to let you know I really want you to fuck my ass later.” He grabs Jongdae’s pillow, pulling it toward him.  
  
Jongdae laughs, jerking himself off for a few strokes before hunting around for his supplies. “Now is as good a time as any.”  
  
“And then after that, I want to fuck yours.”  
  
“Returning the favor, huh?”  
  
Yixing laughs. “Oh, absolutely. However you want me to.”  
  
Once he’s found his condoms and his fresh container of lube, Jongdae unwraps a condom. After quick surgery with scissors, he’s got himself a fair substitute for a dental dam. Back on the bed, Yixing lies facedown waiting for Jongdae, arms crossed over Jongdae’s pillow and head resting on top. Legs spread apart, pert little butt in the air.  
  
“Stay still,” Jongdae says, climbing back on the bed. Unopened condoms to one side, Jongdae opens the lube and drizzles it between Yixing’s asscheeks.  
  
Yixing inhales sharply at the first contact of the cool, water-based lube. Jongdae closes the tube, setting it with the unopened condoms, and uses the makeshift dental dam to spread it over Yixing’s ass. Once Jongdae’s satisfied, he spreads Yixing’s cheeks apart, pinning the thin barrier over the hole, and applies his mouth.  
  
The effect is immediate. Yixing moans, loud and resonant like he’s singing while Jongdae flicks his tongue over the little ridges of the anus. Jongdae circles the spot, tracing spirals and different shapes with the tip of his tongue, paving broad swathes with a flatter approach. To keep Yixing groaning, Jongdae alternates prim licks with pushing his face in close and shaking his head. He kneads each cheek as best he can with his hands. Pressing his lips over the pucker of muscle, Jongdae digs the tip of his tongue into its center. The more he teases, the more he feels Yixing’s ass relax under his mouth.  
  
Satisfied, Jongdae lifts his head and pulls the condom away. Yixing groans. “Why’d you stop?”  
  
“We can do more later, if you want.” Jongdae sits back.  
  
Yixing rolls to his side, looking up at Jongdae. The blush from earlier spread down his neck, blooming across his chest. Jutting out at his hip, Yixing’s cock echoes the color with its own, darker shade. He offers Jongdae a coy smile. “I’d like that a lot, yes.” Yixing’s hand trails down his body, Jongdae watching it as Yixing takes himself in hand. “So if that’s later, what’s next?” He gives himself a firm pull from base to tip. Then, he keeps his wrist loose as he jerks around the head of his dick.  
  
“Next?”  
  
“Should I roll back over for you?” Yixing raises an eyebrow.  
  
Jongdae shakes his head, reaching out to pin one arm by Yixing’s head. He leans down to press a tender kiss to Yixing’s forehead. “No,” Jongdae says. Giving him another kiss, this time on the tip of Yixing’s nose, Jongdae pulls away to throw out the condom.  
  
When they come back together on Jongdae’s bed, Jongdae rolls a new, whole condom down his length. Yixing, with a lazy smile, shifts to his back and spreads his legs apart. The hand on his dick remains there, jerking himself off in slow strokes. The other hand he tucks behind his head, propping himself up on Jongdae’s pillow to watch.  
  
Coating his fingers with lube, and spreading even more of the stuff over Yixing’s asshole, Jongdae works him the rest of the way relaxed with gentle touches. Jongdae leans up to kiss Yixing’s cheeks. “You feel ready?” he asks between kisses.  
  
Yixing shifts the hand out from behind his head to wind in Jongdae’s hair, pulling him in for a proper kiss on the mouth. Jongdae fucks three fingers into Yixing’s asshole just to feel Yixing moan into his mouth. “Yes,” Yixing says when they break away. But Jongdae stays where he is, panting against Yixing’s mouth and his fingers pumping in and out of Yixing, so Yixing pulls him back in for another slow exchange of their tongues before letting him go.  
  
With a sigh, Jongdae moves back to replace his fingers with his dick. He resettles on his knees, pulling Yixing’s legs around his waist. Aligning his cock with Yixing’s slicked and relaxed hole, he pauses to rub his head around it one last time before pushing inside.  
  
They go slow, Jongdae sliding further into Yixing on each gentle thrust. It helps Yixing relax completely, and helps Jongdae keep a modicum of self-control. Yixing’s ass feel so unbelievably good, clinging to him in all the ways Jongdae craves, coming early is a real threat. So when Jongdae bottoms out the first time, he stays there, hunched over Yixing and breathing hard.  
  
“What’s wrong?” Yixing asks, quiet and concerned.  
  
There’s no point in lying. “I’m trying not to blow my load.” When Yixing laughs, his ass flutters around Jongdae’s cock in the most delightful way. “Oh, god.”  
  
Yixing pulls Jongdae down to wrap his arms around Jongdae’s shoulders. In the embrace, Jongdae can feel Yixing smiling against his cheek. His stomach flips, his tongue threatening to blurt a three-word phrase that deserves a better time, a better place. “When you’re ready,” Yixing says against his ear. Jongdae bites his lip and starts to move.  
  
Missionary has never been one of Jongdae’s favorite positions as a top, but with Yixing laid out beneath him, he thinks he could be persuaded to change. Yixing clings to his cock with each aching pull. He keeps his arms wrapped around Jongdae’s shoulders, long fingers running through Jongdae’s hair and scratching Jongdae’s back. Face to face, it’s easy to lean down and tease his way into Yixing’s mouth. Easier still to swallow every delicious moan, every whisper of praise or curse on Jongdae’s name, every quiet plea for more.  
  
They rock together, Jongdae losing himself in whimpers and the sweet gliding friction around his cock. He shifts closer, lowering to rest on his forearms instead of his hands. It leaves his hands free to pet Yixing’s hair and changes the angle of his hips. The slow pace coaxes delicate sounds of pleasure from both of them, though Jongdae’s certain his heart still pounds as loud in his ears as when they’re fucking like animals in heat.  
  
As the pressure builds in his balls, Jongdae reaches between them to take Yixing in hand. He starts slow, but speeds up, determined to bring Yixing to completion first. As he nears his own orgasm, his coordination falters, their voices growing harsher with each thrust of hip and hand. Jongdae brings Yixing off first, but just barely, coming with a hoarse cry and shooting out between them. Hand slick with Yixing’s cum, Jongdae shudders and gives in, rolling through him in explosive, white-hot waves. He collapses forward, or maybe Yixing pulls him down, and doesn’t stop fucking until they’ve both finished coming.  
  
Once the pleasure subsides, Jongdae turns his face in the pillow and nips Yixing’s ear.  
  
“Hey!”  
  
Jongdae giggles, an infectious laugh that spreads to Yixing, though Yixing’s turns to a soft moan when Jongdae pulls his cock out of Yixing’s ass before it goes soft. Not ready yet to get out of bed, he settles himself beside Yixing. Jongdae sighs, content and satisfied for the time being. “Round one is done.”  
  
Yixing laughs, pulling Jongdae close and rubbing his lower back. “Round two, coming soon.”  
  
“Not too soon.”  
  
“No.”  
  
With a groan, Jongdae gets up to dispose of the condom. The cold dorm floor is a cruel punishment against his bare feet, so he moves fast. Yixing welcomes him back to his bed with a sleepy grin.  
  
“We should record ourselves having sex so I can use samples of it in my digital composition class next semester.”  
  
“Please don’t talk about school yet, I’m still reeling from finals,” Jongdae says, pulling blankets over them.  
  
Yixing turns him on his side, settling in behind him so they can both look out the window. It’s dark outside already, which is one of Jongdae’s least favorite things about winter. And it’s still snowing, heavier than before. Campus is a nearly-blank canvas, dark trees a stark contrast to the glow of white snow under streetlamps. “Okay, I won’t.”  
  
They grow quiet. Yixing’s even breathing at Jongdae’s back feels good, but not as good as Yixing’s arm slung over his waist. “We just had sex.”  
  
With a hum, Yixing nods against the pillow. “We’ve had sex before.”  
  
“Not as,” Jongdae falters, “boyfriends.”  
  
“No, not as boyfriends.” Yixing kisses the back of Jongdae’s neck. “And after half an hour, we’ll probably have sex again. As boyfriends.” Another kiss. “Then we should eat dinner, probably.”  
  
Jongdae laughs, body thrumming with post-sex pleasure. “Sounds good to me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to thank everyone involved with the production of this fic: the benevolent fest admin, the prompter (LJ user zyxisagod), and all of my friends who helped & encouraged me to keep going.
> 
> And thank you, dear reader, for reading to completion what has been my lifeblood for the past few months. I hope you enjoyed it!


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